Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting
by inlovewithpadfoot
Summary: Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the deed, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting? COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **I'm not blonde. I'm not British. I'm not white. Or rich. Hence, I'm not JKR, and none of this is mine. Like...NOT ONE SINGLE BIT. *sob*

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 4,978

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language, mentioned death.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** Yay! Another story. A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is cannon.

"Morning, Harry."

"Good morning."

Harry Potter grunts into his coffee cup. "What's so good about it?" He hasn't really been planning on waking up at six in the morning, but Ron's snores have just gotten a wee too loud. So he has decided to come downstairs early and make himself some dark coffee to wipe away the sleepiness. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin's cheerful faces aren't helping the cause.

"Just an expression," Remus says smilingly.

Harry scoffs. "Right."

"Actually..." Sirius glances uncertainly at Remus. "We're glad you're awake before Ron and we have chance to talk to you alone."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Remus says with a hesitant glance at Sirius, cheerfulness disappearing. "Sirius and I...we would like to talk to you."

Harry waits for him to elaborate. When that doesn't happen, he turns to his godfather: Sirius too, is fidgeting and glancing at Remus nervously.

"Well," Remus continues. "Sirius and I were talking. And before, with the war and everything...there wasn't really a right time to, you know, expla-"

"If this is about you and Sirius after the Battle, don't worry. I know. And no, I haven't told anyone."

He is referring of course, to the very intimate scene of Sirius consoling Remus over Tonks' death. Nothing indecent, oh no. Just soft, comforting words and gently, almost non-existent touches. Sirius would never be so insensitive as to jump on Remus right then. And now, three months later they are playing the same game Ron and Hermione had been playing for years: Ignore ignore ignore. Deny deny deny. Harry finds the whole thing ridiculously amusing.

Ron had been with him that day when Harry and Ron went up to their dormitories for well needed sleep; he had promised to keep quite about it. But he had said he would tell Hermione. As far as Harry knows, him, Ron, and Hermione are the only ones. But he needn't panic Sirius and Remus with that information.

Remus' eyes widen exponentially and Sirius decides the crack in the corner of the ceiling is fascinating. Harry can't help but laugh.

"What, you didn't think I would know? You were in the _Gryffindor_ _dormitory."_

Remus coughs uncomfortably. "Er...right. This isn't-we just wanted to talk. About you."

Harry frowns. "Talk? About me?"

Remus nods, not exactly looking at Harry, but not looking away entirely like Sirius. He does, however, look exponentially out of his depth. "Yes, well, see...you're eighteen now..."

"Uh-huh." Harry nods, unsure where this was going. It takes all of his willpower not to say, 'Thanks, Captain Obvious.' They look like they want to talk about something serious.

"And Sirius-" Remus glances at said man for support, but Sirius was still studying the crack. "-Sirius and I decided we should talk. Even if it's a bit..."

"Late," Sirius offers when Remus can't seem to find the right word. "But there was always something or other going on, and never the right time to-" He makes impatient hand gestures. "Talk," he finishes lamely.

"Right." Remus fidgetes with his shirt sleeve. "And we thought now's a-a proper time-and-what I'm-" He looked at Sirius helplessly.

"What Moony's trying to say is that you're eighteen now-"

"You said that already," Harry can't help but point out, his brows furrowing as he tries to make sense of what his godfather and potential godfather-in-law(was that the term?) are saying.

Sirius cleares his throat deliberately. "...Right. Right, yeah, we did. And you might, you know, wanad'smngswipl," Sirius finishes, mumbling incoherently.

Harry blinks. "Sorry? I really didn't catch the last part."

Sirius mumbles something again, his face flushed. Harry looks at Remus questioningly only to find the werewolf as red as-well, a Weasley.

"What?" Harry says, leaning forward across the table to hear Sirius speak.

"Y-you might..." Sirius takes a deep breath as though steeling his resolve. "You might want to do some...things."

Things? What things? Harry looks from Sirius to Remus in confusion.

"With people," Remus adds.

Oh. _Oh. _Those _things_. Those...things...

He can't believe this. He cannot believe they're...oh _God!_

"No," Harry says sharply, pushing away from the table."No, we're not doing this, alright? God, why would you-that's not-"

"Harry, sit down," Sirius says warily. "Look, we have to-"

"No! Look, I get it, alright. All the birds and bees and..." He waves his hand dismissively, casting his mind for the right word. He finally settles on "crap. You don't have to tell me."

"Actually," Remus smiles wanly. "We do."

Harry begins backing away from them as though they are a pair of explosives. "No...you _really_ _don't_. I can live without that mortification, thanks. Besides, you're a bit late, alright?"

Remus and Sirius looks like Harry has smacked them with one of the tomes Hermione read for 'just a bit of a light reading.' "What?"

Shit. Shit shit shit. Bloody buggering fucking _shit_. He should not have said that. He should _not_ have said that.

No. He should have kept quiet like a good little boy and ran for it at the first sign of discomfort. Like when Sirius started turning that interesting shade of red. He can still book it. And lock his door. And ward it for extra measures. And never _ever_ show his face to the two men who were the closest he will ever get to a father.

Or maybe he can leave the country.

They won't come searching for him in Somalia, would they? Or Antarctica?

"What do you mean, late?" Sirius demands.

Remus rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you know exactly what it means, Padfoot." Sirius glares.

"Er..." Harry scratches the back of his neck.

"With who?"

"Whom," Harry corrects automatically, wincing at his folly. Improper English isn't likely to deter the Animagus.

"I don't give a damn! Why haven't I heard of this?"

Yes. Running sounds like a sound option. Or maybe _being_ an Animagus.

He would make a fine sparrow- easy to hide _and_ fly away. How long would the process take, he wonders. Would it be possible in the next ten seconds?

Or maybe he can take a Shrinking Solution and Sirius will never find him. Damn! Where was Snape when you needed him?

Oh, right. Dead.

Harry's face feels like it's on fire; he is sure he has surpassed red and gone on to a purple worthy of Uncle Vernon.

"Because it wasn't a big deal?" he answers meekly, wishing the wall he is pressed against will swallow him up, trying, trying oh-so-hard not to think about that day. Or about the word _hard._

Fuck, he is wearing _jeans._

The images rush past him; standing in front of the Room of Requirement, the thrown curses, the yelling, the attempt at punching, soft, soft blonde hair tickling his cheek as he snarls something irrelevant, the flushed faces, the blood rushing to other body parts.

Oh gods. Oh no, no, no, no, no!

Harry bites down on his lip harshly and clenches his hands, trying desperately to will the thoughts away.

Maggots. Garden gnomes. Kreacher! Ugh. That is just disturbing.

What was it Snape had said?

_Discipline your mind. _

Harry exhales, relieved. Thoughts of the hook-nosed professor work. Work very well.

Harry opens his eyes- and when had he closed them anyhow?- to find Sirius and Remus with identical smirks curving their lips.

A renewed flush creeps over his face. "Shut up," he mumbles, inching closer to the door to escape.

Remus shrugs and shakes his head. "We're not saying anything."

"Brilliant. I'll just...go then." Harry's hand is almost touching the doorknob when, with a flick of Remus' wand, the door closes itself. Harry groans.

This, he knows, is worse than any Cruciatus Voldemort could have cursed him with. Much, much worse.

"Sit. Down."

"This is unnecessary," Harry grumbles, sitting down, nonetheless.

"I think not," Sirius retorts. "You've been keeping things from us." All signs of discomfort are replaced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Sirius no longer looks like a godfather just giving The Talk.

Harry doesn't trust that glint. In fact, it makes him want to run screaming from the room. Harry wonders whether the Sorting Hat hadn't made a mistake not putting Sirius in Slytherin like the rest of his family.

He wonders how they will react when they found out just _how much_ he has been keeping from them.

"Now," Sirius leans backward, legs kicked up onto the table, hands folded behind his head, and whispers conspiratorially, "why haven't we been told of this development?"

Oh Merlin, this ias beyond embarrassing, discussing his sex life in the kitchen with his godfather being so blasé about the whole affair.

"Right," Harry says drily. "I can imagine the letter. 'Dear Sirius. I've just fucked. Kaythanksbye, Harry.'"

Remus fights to suppress a smile. Harry glowers at him, and Sirius for good measure.

Sirius gives his bark like laugh. "So. Was it a certain red head? I bet it was." Sirius continues, misinterpreting Harry's splutters and turns to Remus. "Didn't I tell you the Potter men had a thing for redheads."

Dear God, just what Harry needs: Being compared to his father. _Now. _

He does not ever want to think about his father and mother having...doing...in that context.

Especially when it isn't true.

Not the part about red heads. Harry will be the first to admit Ginny is gorgeous, but ever since the war, and Fred, and...everything, Harry knows Ginny and him aren't right. They want different things- like the same type of equipment in their bed partners. And lots and lots of angry sex.

Unbidden to his mind, an image of a bed in a fully repaired Room of Requirement flashes by. A bed occupied by a boy- man, really- with exquisite pale skin.

Harry bites down on his lip once more as his toes curl from the memory.

Sometimes, he wonders whether staying in Hogwarts to repair the castle had been a good idea. Would things have been different had he not remained at the wrecked castle? And what, pray tell, will he do now that he was back in his godfather's house, without a certain Slytherin someone?

Remus seems to have a thoughtful expression. It is worse than Sirius' glint. Harry remembers that for all his bookish quietness, Lupin is still a Marauder. Still capable of mischief like Sirius. "So you did, Sirius. My question is, does a certain Ronald Weasley know?"

Harry pales, not because they are right about Ginny, but because no one, no fucking one (well, Hermione, but she was just weird that way) knows about Harry's- um, preferences.

He isn't sure how Ron will take it.

There has to be some sort of spell that will allow the Earth to swallow him up, surely, so he doesn't have to go through the painful process of coming out like this? He will look it up in the vast Black library as soon as this torture session is over. Just in case Ron decides to take up where Voldemort failed and kill Harry.

His only solace is that they seem to think it was Ginny. Maybe he should just let them? It would save so much hassle.

Yes. Yes, let them think it was Ginny. After all, they won't speak to her about any of this, would they? The two grinning men had to have some boundaries, right?

_Right?_

Right. What was it the Sorting Hat said about Harry and doing well in Slytherin? He supposes he should call on that dormant Slytherin side of him.

"N-no," Harry fakes a stammer, widening his eyes in what he hopes to be terror.

"Ah-hah." Sirius nods, seemingly satisfied.

Here, Harry decides to cast a terrified look at the door as though Ron himself is about to come in brandishing his wand, cursing Harry into oblivion. It seems to do the trick.

Remus and Sirius exchange another amused glance.

"Well," Sirius says, balancing his chair on two legs. "We can't have the girl's brother knowing, can we? Goodness knows she has too many. You'd be black and blue before you could say 'Oh shit.' Trust me, I've been there."

Remus gives Sirius a sidelong glance.

Harry quirks an eyebrow, amused. "Whose sister have you been shagging?"

"No one's," Sirius replies a bit too quickly.

It's Harry's turn to grin, glance at Remus and say, "Ah-hah."

Remus barely conceals a snort, leans forward and gazes at Harry seriously with his amber gaze. "Harry, the point is..."

And that is about the time Harry stops listening about charms and potions and Muggle contraceptives and don't worry Harry, they work just as well as magical methods.

Harry just hopes this little fib- alright, blatant lie- about Ginny won't leave the shared home in which he lives with Ron, Sirius, Remus, and Teddy.

He hopes as hell the news doesn't reach Ron especially. That would not bode well.

At _all_.

It's New Year's Eve. Harry and Ron have a week off from Auror training and Hermione is back from Hogwarts for the holidays, but he hasn't seen either since the two disappeared into the garden awhile back. Oh, no, wait...there they are looking flushed and rumpled.

Harry is busy weaving through the packed bodies at the Burrow, trying to out-weave Ginny as she pursues him around the house, trying to catch him under the single, solitary, moving Mistletoe.

He can see Sirius and Remus' intrigued glances follow him around every time he ducks behind another red-head as the youngest Weasley hunts him down.

Of course, Harry still hasn't told his godfather or his former professor of his relationship- if it could indeed be called that- with a certain blonde. They hava the complete right to frown and puzzle over Harry's cold, and somewhat comical reception toward the girl he'd allegedly slept with.

An hour into the celebrations, Harry is speaking with Mr. Weasley and Bill about the new filtering out of corruption in the Ministry of Magic when he notices the wave like silence that spreads through the laughing house.

Everyone has their eyes trained on the door.

Molly Weasley moves toward the doorway, smiling broadly, welcoming the newcomers into her home.

Harry sees a flash of pale silver blonde and that is enough.

Harry's jaw drops.

Oh no. No, no, no, no. What is Mal- Dra- _Malfoy_ doing here? With his...mother?

And is that- yes, that's definitely Andromeda.

Harry sees Remus go up to warmly greet them. He kisses the women on the cheek, and shakes Malfoy's hand cordially like they have done this often.

What. The. Fuck?

Harry edges closer to Sirius, his bewilderment increasing exponentially when Narcissa Malfoy rocks Teddy, Harry's godson, back and forth with a warm smile on her face.

"Have I landed in an alternate universe?" Harry asks his godfather.

Sirius gives his bark like laugh and slaps Harry on the back good-naturedly. "Nah. Andy and Cissa made up after the war." With that, Sirius too walks to the latest guests, booming a hearty, "Feels like I'm ten again. If only dear Mum were around, and Regy of course," at which Narcissa Malfoy rolls her eyes elegantly and Andromeda laughs.

The hilarity of the situation is not lost on Harry; the two sisters are in the house of their third sister's murderer. Not that anyone regrets that particular death.

Harry looks around wildly to catch Ron's eye, but his best friend seems unperturbed by the presence of the blonde invasion. Not that Harry is a hypocrite...much.

He just likes to compartmentalize and keep his...relations separate. And Draco Malfoy coming to the Burrow for New Year's is anything but separate.

Harry's two lives are clashing more starkly than Ron's hair and the color pink.

He is just contemplating his escape when the crowd clears in front of him and Dra- Malfoy, Harry reminds himself sternly- looks right at the raven-haired man.

Harry blinks. Draco smirks. Harry arches an eyebrow. Draco sneers. "Potter."

He says it with such venom that Harry himself wonders whether or not they had been fucking for the better part of the last six months. The others look on, no doubt expecting wands to be drawn.

But Harry is above that. He is going to be calm and cool and mature, and ignore that fact that the _absolute_ _god_ he had seen half naked, trousers pooled at the ankles in a stall in the loo at Leaky Cauldron less than three hours ago is standing here in his second home, smirking. Knowingly.

"Malfoy," Harry bites out with feigned disdain.

"Now, you two. I won't have any wands drawn tonight," Mrs. Weasley says, waggling her finger sternly at Harry as though he is the one who will whip his wand out at any second.

Not that Harry doesn't want to, of course. It just isn't the wand Molly is talking about.

"Yes," the blonde drawls, his cheeky smirk widening. "We all know how Potter's fond of whipping his wand out. Especially in bathrooms."

Harry narrows his eyes, warning Draco- fuck, Malfoy, dammit! They weren't on first name basis. They were just...something.

"Shut it," Ron growls, pulling Harry away from the blonde. "Bloody Ferret-Face. Dunno why Mum had to let them come. Told her it wouldn't do any-"

"You knew they were coming?" Harry says incredulously.

Ron grimaces apologetically. "Sorry, mate. Mum asked me not to say anything to you. I mean, with you and Malfoy it's always a bit...you know."

Harry frowns. He does know. He knows a lot more than Ron, at any rate.

Harry also knows Draco- he might as well get used to it- would never out Harry tonight, so publicly, because, well he'll be outing himself too, won't he?

Yes, Harry decides, he will.

Harry nods curtly to Ron and moves into the kitchen where there are no female redheads nor any half-Blacks.

He makes small talk with the people there, sipping his butterbeer. He has most certainly not placed himself in such a way that he will be able to see if a certain blonde happens to pass by the kitchen door.

He nods a couple of times, barely listening to what Charlie is saying about dragons. Hagrid seems much more interested in the subject. All Harry has to do is nod and allow his mind to wander.

Harry most certainly does _not_ glance at the door one more time, really, he doesn't. He's only on the lookout for Ginny.

Yes, maybe he should have officially told her he doesn't want to get back with her. But this thing with Draco isn't permanent, is it?

It's just fun. Fun and shagging. Lots and lots of shagging.

Harry has taken to making lame excuses to be out of the house most weekends just so he can meet Draco in one of their many discrete meeting locations. They usually vary from the Hog's Head to the the Leaky Cauldron to Grimmauld Place, where no one ever goes anymore.

It isn't that he doesn't want to tell Remus and Sirius. Hell, if there are two people who most certainly wouldn't care, it is them. It's everyone else he is worried about.

Besides, they aren't in a proper relationship. They just meet and bugger each other. And, yes, okay, they have drinks sometimes, and they do go for dinner all the way up north where no one will recognize them. But those are just a few isolated incidents. That don't mean they are dating. And it most certainly doesn't make Draco his boyfriend.

No. No, it does not.

They are only...fuckbuddies.

Harry internally winces at the crude fact.

But fact nonetheless.

The conversation about dragons has moved outside into the yard where Mrs. Weasley has set up three large tables groaning under the weight of her delicious food.

Harry is seated between Ginny and Hermione, and coincidentally across from Draco.

This will have been fine, but Ginny is trying to clutch at Harry's thigh under the table, and Draco's features range from smug smirk to disapproving glare at Ginny's upper arm which is all he can see. Harry, meanwhile, is trying to put as much distance between the rather gropey redhead and himself to no avail. It doesn't help that Hermione keeps glancing questioningly between Harry, the hand on his thigh, and Draco.

"...'Sright, townsfolk are sayin' Shrieking Shack's haunted again-"

Harry chokes. Draco coughs. Harry turns a red fit for a Weasley. Draco pales.

"A'right Harry?" Hagrid leans across Ginny and thumps Harry's back firmly.

Remus and Sirius look to Hagrid interestedly.

"What do you mean it's haunted again?" Harry manages through wheezes. "Wasn't haunted in the first place, was it?" He indicates to Remus and Sirius.

Sirius grinns. "Nah, but it always scared the villagers. What do you reckon it is, Hagrid?"

"Dunno. Sounds come at the oddest times. There hasn't been a fixed pattern or anythin'."

"Huh...let us know if you find anything- Oy, Mini Cissa, pass the salt."

Harry attempts to suppress the laugh that bubbles up to his throat at Sirius' nick name for Draco, but fails. Ron is loudly guffawing next to Hermione while Narcissa glares across the table at her cousin. Sirius grins, winking at Harry before taking the salt shaker from a very red-faced Draco who is glaring at Harry with much more severity than his mother.

Remus sighs exasperatedly and apologizes to Draco on Sirius' behalf, not that it takes the devilish grin of the dark-haired man's face.

And just like that, the renewed shrieking of the Shack is forgotten.

Draco and Harry make sure not to meet each other's eyes the rest of the meal, along with avoiding Hermione's shrewd glances.

But Harry hardly notices them, because Draco is all but fucking his spoon as he slurps the soup, and Harry is getting hard, and he knows- just knows- Ginny thinks it is because of her when the truth couldn't be farther.

The entire time Harry sits across from Draco, all he can think is how amazing his blonde hair would look against the dark green of the Weasley's bathroom wall off the kitchen while Harry kisses him until Draco's lips are raw and he can't see without looking crosseyed. So that's just what he does when dinner is over and everyone is saying goodbye and Draco is going to get one last drink of water before he leaves.

Harry pulls him into the darkened hallway, pressing Draco back until the bathroom door opens with a thud and they stumble in, without breaking their bruising kiss.

"Fucking tease," Harry growls, roughly shoving his knee thigh between Draco's knees as the blonde smirks against his lips.

Draco mumbles something about Weasley and chit and Goddamned mistletoe, but Harry doesn't hear. He's too busy feasting on marble smooth skin while skilled hands attached to the torso belonging to the neck being caressing Harry's chest, nipples, waist, hips, slowly sinking beyond the waistband to wrap themselves around Harry's achingly hard cock.

Draco is rutting against him, softly rasping, "No pants. Now who's the tease, Potter?"

Harry doesn't answer, only shoves his thigh harder against Draco's groin, making him cry out and bite Harry's neck as wetness spreads between them. Harry knows it's going to bruise. He doesn't care.

Two more thrusts into Draco's hand and Harry's coming too, stifling his scream into the nape of Draco's neck, soft hair tickling his cheek as starts burst behind his closed eyelids.

He pants, their mingled breathing sounding like a fright train in the quiet bathroom. Draco pulls him into another kiss- this one more gentle and drawn out. Harry feels Draco's pulse slow down to a normal rate as his breathing evens.

Harry pulls back, looking into those deceptively cold grey eyes. "Fuck, Malfoy." Malfoy- always Malfoy out loud. If he ever knew Harry thinks of him as Draco now...he doesn't want to imagine the mocking.

Malfoy is better than being snubbed. Or worse, rejected.

Rejected for what exactly, he isn't sure.

"Fuck indeed, Potter."

Potter and Malfoy. Always Potter and Malfoy.

Never Draco.

Never Harry...

"Dwayco!"

Harry stops pushing on the swing Teddy is sitting on. His breath catches as he sees Draco walk toward the young godfather and godson in casual grey robes.

Dwayco is the fifth word Teddy learned to say. Right after Daddy, Hawwy, Pafoo, and Gamms.

Harry's godson is almost nine months old now, but he speaks like a two year old. Harry is told by all the adults that most magical children develop fast. Harry doesn't care. He's glad he was Teddy's second word. It makes him feel proud.

Remus and Sirius are inside making lunch and or bickering about the stagnancy of their relationship.

Sirius wants it to go farther, Harry knows, but Remus still isn't certain how Tonks would feel, and whether or not Andromeda would be accepting, despite Sirius' insistence that Teddy needs another parental figure in his life.

Harry refrains from pointing out that since Sirius, Remus, and Teddy live in the same house, the Animagus is an undeclared parental figure. But Remus is stubborn, and Sirius impatient. Harry wonders if all families are like this; with two bickering adults.

He knows that is what Ron and Hermione will do most of the time when they move in together after Hermione finishes Hogwarts now that Ron has saved up all that money from working part-time with George while doing Auror training.

Harry doesn't know, never having witnessed two normal adults.

Vernon and Petunia don't count.

Harry focuses back onto Draco. He's less that two feet away.

With a cursory glance at the house to make sure Remus and Sirius are to engrossed to pay attention to them, Harry brushes his fingers up Draco's arm.

The need to touch him- to feel him whenever he's around is too immense to push down.

Harry wants to tell. Oh he so wants. But Draco doesn't.

Draco isn't sure about how his mother, his _father_ will take it.

Harry wants to tell him to forget about them. Because dammit, they _aren't_ just fuckbuddies. Because Harry feels something around Draco.

And he knows- he sees it in the grey eyes whenever they're meeting in one of their many hideaways- that Draco does too, although neither are saying it.

"Hey," Harry whispers, lightly brushing his lips against Draco's earlobe under the pretext of handing a bouncing Teddy over to his favorite cousin.

He notes the shiver that passes though the blonde with some fascination. It makes him wonder how exactly he ended up in a position where a whispered word from him has the power to make Draco Malfoy come in his pants, and vice versa.

"Hey." Draco smiles softly. So softly, in fact, that one wouldn't know it was there were they not paying attention to the slight tilt to his lips.

For the rest of the world, Draco and Harry still barely tolerate each other. And even then, it was only for the sake of Teddy, but they both know that isn't the case.

Harry has told Ginny a month ago that nothing can ever happen between them.

It took a party at the Malfoys, and a Slytherin named Astoria flirting with Draco to make him realize it.

All his self control had been spent that night.

Later, after the party, Harry dragged Draco into one of the Manor's many empty rooms, licking, kissing, biting Astoria's girlish scent off Draco, trying not to remember how he laughed as he twirled her around the dance floor.

By the end of the hour, Draco only smelt of spices and semen.

Nothing else.

Sirius calls from the back door leading into the yard that dinner is ready. Harry and Draco walk in, Draco cooing to Teddy the whole time despite his insistence that he hates children.

Remus takes his son from Draco, raising an eyebrow at both of them, he says, "Well, I'm surprised. You two stood outside for ten whole minutes and didn't curse each other."

Draco shrugs, glancing at Harry. "Potter's training to be an Auror. He knows more curses than I do."

Harry flutters his eyelashes, holding a hand over his heart. "Why, Malfoy, was that a compliment?"

Draco rolls his eyes and shoves Harry into the table. "Don't get used to it."

Harry I about to retort, but he catches the knowing look in Remus' eyes and decides not to speak any more. Instead, he goes to help Sirius set the table for five of them.

Ron is in Hogsmeade, visiting Hermione for the weekend.

They settle down to eat; Sirius at one long end, Remus as the other with Teddy's highchair next to him, and Draco and Harry across.

Harry thinks it's perfect: Especially when he toes off his shoe and runs his foot up the inside of Draco's leg, teasingly pressing his toes against Draco's crotch.

Harry smirks into his goblet when Draco gives out a stifled gasp.

Yes, he thinks again, watching Sirius gaze fondly at Remus feeding Teddy, and Draco trying not to squirm. It _is_ perfect.

He misses Sirius' dropped fork and dive under the table to get it.

**A/N: Hope you liked it so far. No, this isn't all there is to it. I wouldn't have made it a WIP otherwise. Please read and REVIEW to let me know what you think. **

**Thanks,**

**MJ. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **Yes, I am totally married and have children, and have made so much money by writing seven books that I no longer have to work for the rest of my life... and then I wake up and realize it's just a dream. *sigh*

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 4,661

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language, mentioned death, alcohol use.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

"Don't you look homely."

Harry turns, a smile already in place in answer to the snarky drawl. "You could help." He tilts his toward the sink.

Draco snorts. "Malfoys don't do the dishes."

Harry rolls his eyes, turning his back to the blonde. "Funny. Sirius says the same thing, except with him it's Blacks." Draco's footsteps echo in the empty kitchen. He's standing right behind Harry now, his lips only a couple of inches from Harry's neck. The raven-haired man shivers as warm breath ghosts over the bare patch of skin over his collar.

"Blacks don't do the dishes either," Draco murmurs.

"How convenient you're both."

"Mhmm." Pale hands wrapped themselves around Harry's torso, sinful fingers sneaking under the hem of his I Killed Voldy-Moldy shirt given to him by George for Christmas. It shouts obscenities whenever anyone says You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named around Harry.

Harry gasps, his head falling back onto the ex-Slytherin's shoulder as his nipples are tweaked almost painfully. "Mgmf...Malfoy!" Harry ruts against the kitchen counter, the plate slipping through his wet fingers, trying to gain some friction and relief for his achingly hard cock.

Draco presses a soft, tender kiss below Harry's ear, pressing his hips in the cleft of Harry's arse. "How about we make that Potters don't do dishes either?" With a flick of his wand, the dishes begin washing themselves.

Harry turns, wrapping his hands around Draco's hips, pushing their hips together, drawing identical moans from both young men. "I like the sound of that," he says before covering Draco's decadent mouth with his own. It isn't until he hears a rattle of pipes that he breaks off reluctantly. "Remus-"

"Putting Teddy to bed," Draco interrupts, latching onto Harry's neck, biting furiously then apologizing with a soothing tongue.

"S-Sirius-" Harry manages, crying loudly as those familiar fingers slide lower to cup his prominent erection.

"Already upstairs," Draco answers, and Harry is jealous of his composure and steady voice and wants to reduce Draco to an mumbling, pleading, incoherent puddle of sheer _need. _So with a low guttural growl, Harry moves with fluidity that would make his Auror fitness instructor proud and pins Draco between the counter and Harry's body.

Within moments, Draco's trousers are off and Harry is kneeling in front of him, staring at the velvety head of Draco's cock. He licks once from the root to the tip. Draco mewls. The kneeling man takes a moment to look up. What he sees almost takes his breath away.

Draco has his head thrown back, teeth clamped down on his lower lip, eyes scrunched shut tightly. The open window in the kitchen lets in a soft spring breeze that gently ruffles Draco's halo of silvery blonde hair.

A feeling of rightness settles over the brunette, and in that moment Harry doesn't care about anything except them. And he most certainly doesn't care about how much he will be mocked for being a Hufflepuff. He just can't resist tenderly kissing Draco's thigh and whispering, "Beautiful."

Draco's eyes fly open, grey eyes meet green, and the blonde gives a tentative smile.

Harry beams back, his heart thudding against his chest. They're having a moment, Harry realizes. And the knowledge makes him pause.

They never have moments. All their 'moments' are quick and dirty and sometimes shameful.

But this- this is anything but shameful: This feels right, like a puzzle coming together after the lost piece is found. A sense of wholeness.

Then Draco ruins is by pulling at the messy black locks and smirking. "Get on with it, Potter."

And Harry does get on with it, because that's what they do, don't they? Because this is nothing more, is it?

Sirius Black lies in his bed that night, staring at the ceiling, counting the non-existent cracks in the ceiling. He thinks. Thinks hard about what he saw when he ducked under the table to get his fork. His brain can't wrap itself around the image.

He has tried explaining it away many times already, but even in his mind the excuses seem dubious.

There was no trick of the light, nor a shadow. It wasn't dark enough under the table for shadows.

No. What he saw was true; Harry, his godson Harry, quite plainly playing footsie under the dinner table with the one person he has supposedly hated since he was eleven; his cousin Draco.

Draco _Malfoy_.

Cissa's son Draco.

Sirius can't fathom it.

It isn't that he's surprised his godson hasn't entirely straight inclinations. Despite Remus' assumptions, Sirius isn't entirely thick. He's seen Harry ogling other blokes' arse a few times when they've gone out.

Hell, he's caught him eyeing _Remus'_ arse. Not that there's anything wrong with that. He knows Remus has a fine arse. It's just- well, he had thought these actions were almost unconscious. He has known something wasn't quite right between Ginny and Harry since the New Year's party.

He chalked it up to changing hormones and finding what fits. Sirius thought giving it time would help, that Harry would come to Sirius of his own accord. Especially after that horrendous botch up of a talk back in October.

But...Draco?

Sirius had thought the civil behavior was a truce between the two. Clearly, that isn't the case.

Well, Sirius supposes, there is a truce. Just of a different kind.

What bothers him most is why Harry hasn't told him. He understands why he was never told about Ginny- if it had in fact ever been Ginny. Somehow, he doubts it. But this? Harry must know Sirius wouldn't care. He _knows_ about Sirius and Remus. Not that there's much to know there.

Sirius wishes there was, but alas, his oldest friend was a stubborn fool and didn't Sirius know it. He'd just have to be patient. Something Azkaban had helped with.

He drifted off to sleep, promising himself to talk to Remus first thing tomorrow about Harry.

That night he dreams of shaggy dogs, and full moon, and young werewolves, and stags, and pale cousins.

Sirius' cursed alarm wakes him the next morning. He checks the time: Six thirty. He still has time enough to shower, breakfast, and make it to Hogwarts in time for his first class.

Remus, he knows, isn't teaching his first Defense class until noon today. Good thing too, for Teddy sounds rowdier than usual even through the muffled wards Sirius places around his room at night.

After the reconstruction, when it became apparent Hogwarts would indeed open by September first, McGonagall had been short of professors for Defense, Transfiguration, and Muggle Studies.

She approached Remus and Sirius for the former two posts, claiming- to Sirius, at least- that although he had given her enough grief as a student, she couldn't deny he was exceptional at Transfiguration. Being an Animagus- now legal due to his role in the war- was an added bonus.

McGonagall installed direct Floo connections to their offices so they won't have to live in the castle.

Teddy stays with Andromeda during the day while Remus teaches. The transportation is Harry's responsibility before he leaves for Auror training. Sirius has always thought babies are difficult. He never understood how much until he realized it takes three of them combined to take care of Teddy.

When he steps into the kitchen, hair wet from his shower, veritable chaos hits him.

Harry is aiming his wand at the stove, trying to put out the flames rising from the now burnt toast. Remus' entire right side is covered in baby food, while a crying Teddy make pots, pans, knives, and cutlery fly around the room. Remus and Harry duck repeatedly to avoid being hit in the face. The door is covered in butter and pieces of muffin. Teddy's hair changes color so rapidly Sirius can't tell the difference one color and the next.

Sirius is now very glad to have Silencing Charms on his room.

He waves his wand in one sweeping motion, freezing the kitchen utensils mid-air just as Harry's Aguamenti hits the frying pan just right, dampening the flames. Remus still has trouble quieting his son.

Teddy is sitting in his chair, eyes shut tightly, nose scrunched, mouth open in a loud, never ending wail, small fists hitting the chair tabletop repeatedly.

Harry is letting out a stream of curses as he goes around, plucking the dangerous cutlery out of the air, placing them into their proper places. Remus doesn't even reprimand him, so engrossed is he in trying to calm Teddy down.

He wonders where Ron is, but realizes the red head probably booked it at the first signs of shrieking child.

Sirius decides to take matters into his own hand. With a flick of his wand, a loud bang resonates through the room, effectively shutting Teddy up as he looks around for the source. Remus gives him a half-hearted glare. Sirius rolls his eyes and plucks Teddy out of his chair before he can think about wailing again, and swings him around rapidly.

There's a choked sob, a baby-ish snort, and then loud laughter.

Remus slumps, running a hand over his applesauce covered face, smiling gratefully at Sirius, and Sirius' heart soars, and he is barely aware of Harry still cursing, muttering something about being late and Robards having his arse for breakfast.

He is by the Floo when he turns around and says, "I'll be late tonight. Going to meet with Neville and Luna at the Leaky."

And Sirius knows, just knows it isn't Neville or Luna he's going to meet at the Leaky.

He doesn't get a chance until lunch in the Great Hall to talk to Remus about Harry and Draco.

"You saw- are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. How could I not be? They were right there!" Sirius whispers indignantly.

"Well...maybe-"

Sirius snorts. "Maybe what, Harry's toes were itching?"

"No, course not." Remus looks over at the Gryffindor table where Ginny and Hermione are sitting, chatting amicably. "D'you reckon Ron and Hermione know?"

"Doubt it. Don't think they even know he's...you know-" Sirius waves his fork around aimlessly "-bent."

"Maybe he wants to keep it that way," Remus mutters, thoughtfully tapping his fingers against the table.

"Suppose. Can't imagine Lucius and Cissa being alright with their son. Merlin, I feel like a fool. We just lapped up all that stuff about Ginny."

"He was very convincing," Remus allows.

"He lied to our faces!" Sirius bursts out, ignoring the students who look his way interestedly.

Remus cocks his head to the side, giving Sirius a lopsided smile. "Pot. Kettle. Black." Sirius is momentarily distracted by the smile. He unconsciously licks his lips. Remus notices the motion, his eyes flicking down to Sirius' lips. Just as quickly, he is looking at the students once again, muttering, "He'll tell us when he wants to. Until then we'll do nothing."

"But-" Sirius protests.

"Nothing," Remus says warningly.

And that is how Sirius finds himself in Muggle London under the Invisibility Cloak, following the Tracking Spell he put of Harry when the young man came home to change. With Remus.

"I cannot believe you dragged me into this," Remus hisses at Sirius.

"I didn't make you come with me," Sirius snaps back, pulling Remus into an alley next to the club Harry has just gone in. "Drinks with Neville and Luna my arse." He waves his wand over Remus, making his sandy blonde hair darker, more brown, and amber eyes lighter, casts a Glamor for the werewolf's scars.

"What did you do?" Remus demands, feeling his cheeks.

"Changed your hair and eye color is all. Now, do me." Sirius waits patiently as Remus reciprocates, all the while grumbling.

"I feel like a fifth year sneaking out to Rosamerta's seventeen to twenty-five Friday night special."

"How would you know? You never went with James and me," Sirius asks, shoving the Cloak into his jacket pocket. "Come on."

"This is stupid. Harry's of age. He's free to go where ever he wants."

Sirius rolls his eyes as they get in line. "For Chrissake, Moony, you're only thirty-eight, not eighty-three. Stop _griping_. I just want to know if he is going to meet Draco. 'Sides, it's fun, innit? Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Abandoned me around the time I found out I was a father, thanks," Remus bites. "Some of us have responsibilities." As the thump thump thump of music washes over him, he inhales sharply, eyes adjusting to the dim light. "_Padfoot_. Padfoot, this is a gay club!" Sirius only grins in response.

It takes them a while to track Harry down. They move through the gyrating bodies, searching for any glimpse of pale blonde or messy dark hair. All the while, Remus is complaining about leaving Teddy with Andromeda too long, and Sirius is glowering at anyone who so much as looks at the delectable but oblivious werewolf. Sirius wants nothing more than to drag Remus onto the dance floor with him, but he has a lying godson to find.

Sometimes, Sirius curses his insatiable curiosity. Then again, he knows Remus won't dance with him, however much he begs.

"There they are," Remus all but shouts to be heard over the music.

Sirius follows his line of sight; there sitting in a dark corner are Harry and Draco, sipping their drinks.

Without further ado, Sirius grabs hold of Remus' wrist and drags him to an empty booth next to their table, casting an Eavesdrop Charm, ignoring Remus' huff of, "Sirius, really. There is such a thing called privacy."

But Sirius is bored and has no interest in going home and grading essays.

"...out of way of the usual spots, don't you think?" Draco is saying.

"Didn't want to take any chances," Harry's voice mumbles. "I dunno...Sirius looked like he was up to something. Figured here was better than the Leaky."

Remus gives an admonishing shake of his head. Sirius sticks his tongue out at the other man.

"Does he know?" Draco asks sharply, the tapping of his feet halts.

A sigh. "No. Don't think so. It would be so much easier if he did though." Sirius agrees, unthinkingly nodding.

"Don't you dare, Potter. You're not going to tell him."

"Why the fuck not?" Harry snarls.

"Because, Potter, we agreed. We fuck. No strings. No one finds out. That was the deal."

Sirius' eyes widen at the last word. Maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't be listening in after all. But he is too engrossed to leave now. Remus looks as surprised as Sirius feels. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn't this.

Harry stares at Draco incredulously. Had he imagined the gentle kisses and touches that were a vast contrast to the rough, almost angry sex they used to have in the early days? No, he was certain he hadn't. "Screw the deal. This is more than that now, Malfoy. We're not just shagging."

Draco smirked, not the teasing kind, but the cold, cruel one. "Aren't we? What do you suppose last night in your godfather's kitchen was, then?"

"And what do you suppose this is, then?" Harry swipes a hand between them. "Shagging now, are we?"

Draco's lip curls mockingly. "This isn't a date, Potter."

Harry clenches his fists around his mug of brew. It takes all of his effort not to spill the drink over that sleek blonde head. "No? Tell me that when you believe it yourself."

"Oh please, Potter," Draco spits, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows you're going to marry the Ginger Bint, have fifty babies with red hair, and name them James and Lily and Albus and every other unoriginal name. This is nothing but a sideshow."

"Leave Ginny out of this. For fucks sake, I haven't seen her since New Years at the Burrow." At Draco's snort, Harry slams his hand on the table. Hard. "Shove off, Malfoy. If you can't deal with the fact that this isn't some fucking sideshow for me then you can bloody well leave."

Draco blinks, staring at Harry's hand as if its an alien object he's never seen before. After long moments, he looks up at Harry. "I'm going to France for a month."

Harry frowns at the sudden change in subject, unsure as to where this is leading. "Okay."

"The Greengrasses will be there." Draco's voice in flat. Dead.

"Brilliant," Harry grits out. "Maybe by the time you get back you'll have put a big fat ring on her finger, and halfway married."

"Father intends it to be so," Draco intones. Something else flits across his eyes in that moment. Something that vanishes too quickly for Harry to catch.

Harry laughs bitterly. "Oh, well, God forbid anything go against Lucius bloody Malfoy's plan. That's worked out wonderfully for your family in the past, hasn't it?" If Draco insists on being a prick, so can Harry.

The other young man's eyes flash angrily. He stands suddenly, gently setting his glass on the table. With a sneer reminiscent of their Hogwarts' days, and a "Good bye, Potter," Draco is gone.

Angrily, Harry gulps down the rest of his drink, wincing at the burning sensation and slams the mug on the table; the exact opposite of how Malfoy set his glass down. With a shake of his head, he stalks onto the dance floor, letting the music take over. It's only a few seconds before a warm body is pressing against him. He lets his hands wander of their own accord, ignoring that this person has brown eyes and blonde hair much too dark for his liking.

Not ten minutes later he is hard and wanting, and the nameless man is nudging him into the bathroom.

And all Harry can think as a skilled pink tongue laps up his pre-come is how the hair isn't nearly as soft as he would like it.

Not at all.

"Harry, mate, are you alright?"

Ron's tentative question resounds like a gong in his brain. Harry grunts, fumbling with the drawers in the kitchen for a Hangover Remedy. He knows its here somewhere, he just needs to find it. It's here. It has to be. After last night, he doesn't think he can even contemplate going into Auror training without the potion.

Potion, yes. It would be best to keep thinking about the potion rather than last night.

"The eff is going on in here?" Sirius' drowsy voice travels through his hangover induced haze.

Ron shrugs helplessly, staring from Harry to Sirius to Remus. "Dunno."

Harry rolls his eyes at the identical worried looks on their faces, completely forgetting that the drawer he has shoved his had into is full of knives.

"FUCK!"

The other three men jump at the loud expletive, staring at Harry's bleeding hand. Two long cuts are visible along his middle finger and palm. Harry slams the drawers shut, cursing everything from knives to Potions masters.

Remus steps forward hesitantly. "Er...Harry?"

"Where the fuck is the hangover potion? KREACHER!"

The elf Apparates with a crack, giving a low bow to all those present. Ever since Sirius ordered the elf to follow commands of anyone in this house, the wizened elf answers promptly. Granted, Harry is usually kinder to him than Sirius.

"You called, Young Master?"

"Get me the Hangover Remedy, now!"

Except today. Harry isn't in a caring mood. Kreacher senses his distress, because the bow isn't accompanied by a stream of curses. With another crack, the elf is gone to fetch the potion. Once the elf returns, he snatches the potion without the customary thank you Hermione has drilled into him, and downs it in one go before collapsing onto the table.

He snorts when he catches Remus and Sirius exchanging knowing, worried glances while Ron just looks bewildered.

"For pity's sake, I won't bite."

Sirius grins, but even Harry can tell it's forced. "Rough night?"

Harry's "I wish" slips out before he can stop himself. Now that the headache is reducing, he realizes how shitty he must look. He's still in his clothes form last night, having got back only a few minutes ago. He still can't remember how he ended up at an unknown blokes flat.

When he woke up this morning, he panicked, thinking he'd been kidnapped. Thankfully, he'd snatched his wand and Apparated before the Muggle could wake up. Hopefully, he was too drunk last night to remember Harry's wand.

He flushes when he realized how the two words sound, but doesn't know how to take them back. So he just stares at the groove in the table caused by one of Teddy's flying pots yesterday.

"Harry?" Sirius says with the same hesitancy as Remus. "Are you-"

"'M fine," Harry snaps, abruptly standing up. "I'm going to shower."

"Mate-?"

"I said I'm fine, Ron. I'll see you at the Training Center." With that, he takes the steps two at the time, not really wanting to go into training today. He hopes a long cold shower with help with the the gross, sticky feeling that permeates his skin.

Ron shakes his head after Harry leaves. "Damn. This is like Snape all over again."

Sirius' eyes snap onto his godson's best friend instantly. "Snape? What about him?"

The younger man flinches, he almost looks terrified, running a hand through his hair. "Er...nothing. Look, I should go. Just- just tell Harry I went ahead, yeah?"

"Weasley," Sirius says in a low voice. "What. About. Snape."

"I shouldn't- If Harry never told- Hermione and I- I really shouldn't- crap- gotta go!" And Ron all but sprints to the fireplace, jumping into the Floo before Sirius can stop him.

Sirius stares at Remus, aghast. "What in Merlin's hairy balls was that about?"

Remus shrugs, staring at the hearth thoughtfully. "I do believe I haven't the faintest idea, Padfoot."

Harry hates Tuesdays. Actually, no, he hates this Tuesday.

This Tuesday is hot and stifling in the Auror Training Center, and they have three hours of physical fitness along with practical Stealth and Tracking lessons and Potions.

While Auror Instructor Peabody is no Severus Snape, Potions is still Harry's weak point, and Peabody relishes in taunting Harry about his abysmal skills. The only highlight of today is the Defensive Training at the end where he and Ron pair up against two other Trainees.

Having fought side by side for almost eight years has made the two best friends strangely attuned with each other. Together, they make a formidable team with Ron's strategical planning and offensive spell casting and Harry's defensive incantations. They're top of their class and on one has beaten them yet.

Harry throws himself into the familiar game of Shielding and counter-cursing. He enjoys the instinctive feels that flows through him when dueling. He revels in every bead of sweat that drips down his neck as the floor beneath him becomes hot and cracked. But most of all, he loves the absolute control he has of the situation at all times.

The rest of his life has become such a shit-hole that the illusion of control is exactly what he needs right now. It effectively distracts him, making sure he doesn't dwell on Draco Malfoy and anything related to him. The anger he feels at the young pure-bloods is transferred onto the training floor. And it feels _oh-so-good. _

Later, in the locker room, everyone congratulates Ron and him on winning today's round of duels. Harry smiles much more enthusiastically than usual. Ron gives a tight nod of his head, glancing worriedly at his best friend every few seconds.

They're standing by the fireplace of the now empty Training Center when Ron can't stand it anymore and blurts, "I know you weren't with Neville and Luna last night." Harry freezes, hand halfway to the jar of Floo powder. Ron sighs. "Come on, mate. Something's up with you. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out." When Harry still doesn't speak, he continues. "Look, I'm no Hermione. I've got- what is it she said?- the 'emotional range of a teaspoon,' but you've been off all day. Hell, the last few months even. At first, I thought it was just the whole thing with Voldemort, you know? But now...I'm not so sure."

"Ron, there's-"

"No," Ron says sharply, holding one hand up, palm out, to stop Harry. "You don't have to tell me what's bothering you right away, but don't tell me there's nothing wrong. I see it. Hermione sees it. Sirius and Remus see it. Hell, Ginny noticed it at New Years. Whatever it is...you know I'll be round. A bit slow on the uptake, yeah, but around." And Ron leaves in a whoosh of green flames.

Harry wonders perhaps whether his oldest friend knows more than he lets on.

Probably, he concedes glumly, and Floos home.

It's been four months. Four months since he last saw Draco and Harry is sitting in the Hog's Head with Hagrid, George, Charlie, Ron, Sirius, Remus, Bill, Lee, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

It's May second.

"To Tonk's pig nose!"

And the toasts are getting more and more ludicrous as the night goes on. Aberforth frowns at them disapprovingly.

"Aye!" Remus yells and gulps his shot of firewhiskey, choking slightly, whether from a sob or the fiery taste of alcohol, Harry doesn't know. He thinks it might be the former. Harry shoots one down too. It helps ease the pain.

"To Severus Snape's greasy nose!" Harry cries, raising the magically refilled shot glass.

"And what a greasy nose it was too." Sirius nods drunkenly.

There is a pause in which everyone stares at the table or their glass or each other. Harry likes to think they're remembering what a brave man Snape had been. He does.

He remembers every time he sees a cauldron or a potion or the fucking apothecary. He always remembers the words "Look...at...me." He doesn't think he can ever forget them.

"Loved m'mum, y'know?" Harry says to nobody in particular. But Sirius and Remus are staring at him oddly. They do that a lot lately. "Loved her a shit-tonne. Never loved me, though." He frowns, tugging at the hem of his shirt sleeve. "Hated me. Hated my dad too." Harry laughs bitterly, squinting at the werewolf and his godfather. "Hated you too. God, hated you so much. Tried to kill him, din'chu?" He pokes a shamefaced Sirius in the shoulder. "You tried to kill him- Dad tried to save him- he tried to save me"- another humorless laugh- "the bastard! Fucking bastard."

He should stop talking now. Everyone in the dingy pub is staring at him. Ron has a panicked look about him. But Harry's on a roll, or just plain drunk. He doesn't care. He wants to say this. "Loved Mum, right? Couldn't have been that bad, could he?" He asks this to Sirius. "And she loved him too, yeah? When they were kids?" He needs this, he realizes. He needs this confirmation he wasn't all bad; that he was decent some time.

"Harry," Sirius breathes looking utterly lost. Harry fingers the rim of his glass.

"Tried to save Draco too." He isn't hundred percent certain he's still talking about Snape. "Cared about Draco."

And Harry passes out, his glass rolling out of his hand, face flat against the hard surface of the dusty wooden table.

_**A/N: Good...bad...terrible? Let me know in a review, yeah? Much appreciated.**_

_**-MJ.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **Yes, I am totally married and have children, and have made so much money by writing seven books that I no longer have to work for the rest of my life... and then I wake up and realize it's just a dream. *sigh*

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 3,206

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

"Tell me, why the bloody hell does the Daily Prophet make everything out to be such a big deal?" Harry says, disgustedly throwing Sunday paper away from him, instead choosing to help Teddy eat his food. When no one else answers except for Teddy's, "Woom!" which everyone is still trying to figure out the meaning of, Harry continues. "I mean, honestly, who cares why the fuck Draco bloody Malfoy chose to stay in France four months longer than he was going to and is coming back just today?" Certainly not he. No, not at _all._

Remus' "Harry, language!" goes dismissed.

"Please Remus, the boy lives with Ron and Sirius. He's going to be swearing like a sailor by the time he's two."

Remus grumbles about encouraging the bad influence, turns and tends to the bacon. Harry snorts.

He's annoyed by the constant barrage of articles regarding the ex-Death Eater. Really, someone's private life shouldn't be that interesting. Rita bloody Skeeter makes it sound as though Astoria and Draco are already married and on their honeymoon. Apparently, with no war and Chosen One controversies to cover, Rita has turned to _the_ happening event of the year: Draco Malfoy's wedding...interspersed with articles regaling his many charities and donations and the steps he has taken toward redemption in his post-war days,and his successful chain of apothecary's around England.

Quite an achievement merely one year after the war.

"I dunno, Harry," Ron says. He looks oddly uncertain. "Pure-blood marriages are a big deal. Especially when it's old families like Malfoy's."

"He's not married," Harry snaps, his hand shaking slightly so the porridge falls on Teddy's bib.

He's about to be, a sly voice in his mind points out.

Harry tells that voice to go fuck itself.

His best friend shrugs, seemingly oblivious to Harry's anger. "He soon will be." Harry glares at Ron as if this is somehow his fault, siphoning the food off his godson's bib.

"What's up with that, anyhow?" Harry asks, charming the spoon to feed itself to Teddy. "He's just barely nineteen."

Remus and Sirius exchange significant glances Harry doesn't care to look into.

Ron sighs exasperatedly. "Harry."

"What?"

"You're doing it again," the red head says with a shake of his head.

"What?" Harry asks peevishly. He is no mood to decipher Ron's cryptic words.

"You're being obsessed with Malfoy again. It's like sixth year all over."

"I am _not_ obsessed. I could care less what the pointy little ferret gets up to," Harry says vehemently. He resists the urge to flush. He knows there is some truth to Ron's words but he doesn't want to think about it.

His friend only grins. "Mate, after eight years it's safe to say you most certainly do care what the pointy little ferret gets up to."

"I. Don't. He can go fu-"

"Harry!"

"-die for all I care," Harry finishes, carrying Teddy to the sink to clean him.

"He could have. But what did you do? Dove back and saved him," Ron points out.

"Oh, shut up."

"I thought you were getting along?" Sirius says cautiously, observing his godson's face.

Harry grits his teeth. "Did you? Thought wrong then."

Ron grins widely. "It's just Ferret-Face. Let it go, mate."

Harry glances down at the paper showing said face. He looks good- very good. The French air seems to have done a number on his pale features. In the picture, he's wearing flowing grey robes that make him look more regal than he already is. Something Harry is sure he will never achieve. He just doesn't feel as comfortable in wizard wear as Draco.

There is a small smile decorating his face; a smile Harry is sure he's never seen before. But even so, Harry's heart speeds up just looking at the thin lips curved upwards. It's his favorite feature of the picture. And that is where his fondness ends. Because along with Draco, the photograph also consists of a slender, willowy woman who looks barely out of school. Which, of course she is, because Draco is barely out of school.

He knows Astoria Greengrass, the woman around whom Draco has an arm wrapped, was in Ginny's year at Hogwarts, but went to Beauxbatons for her final year. According to Fleur, Beauxbatons let out for the summer only last week. (She was excited for Gabrielle to come visit her for the next three months.)

The young couple- and Harry has to suppress a snort of disgust- look happy and soppily _in_ _love_. The identical looks of adoration they give each other are sickening. (Harry ignores the voice in his head that tells him he only finds it disgusting because Draco never looked at _him_ that way.)

He doesn't know whether it's playacting or not, but something churns in his gut; something very much like jealousy. He remembers feeling this way way back when Ginny was going out with Dean. That monster that wants to claw and rip at Astoria Greengrass' dainty little face and tear out her stupidly straight blonde hair.

Picture Draco's roaming gaze fixes on Harry and his happy expression morphs into a familiar sneer.

The jealous fire turns cold.

Without thinking, without realizing what he is about to do, Harry raises his wand and lights the paper on fire and stalks out of the house only faintly hearing Teddy's cheerful clapping and Sirius and Ron's attempts at dousing out the fire.

Tense silence greets Harry when he comes back for dinner after almost an entire day of flying.

Luckily, Ron is in Hogsmeade with Hermione so Harry has to face only his godfather and old Defense teacher for his appalling behavior this morning. But neither of the older men say anything.

Quietly, Harry sets the table as he does each night, and they have dinner as usual. Dinner is a peaceful affair since Teddy is already asleep by this time; for which Harry is thankful.

Remus and Sirius banter and bicker as they do almost every night. The scene is so reminiscent of Harry's Hogwarts days when he would watch Ron and Hermione have a go at each other that he can't help but smile, momentarily forgetting his sullen mood and all things Draco.

Sirius notices the change in his expression and quirks an eyebrow. "What're you smiling at?"

Harry's smile widens, relishing the effect his undoubtedly demented look has on the other two men.

Sirius and Remus exchange confused glances. Harry laughs at the comical duo.

"I'm lost," Sirius declares after a full minute of frowning at Harry. "What's so funny?"

Harry cocks his head to the side and smirks. "You are."

Remus archs an eyebrow. "Really? Did you hear that, Padfoot? Young Mister Potter here finds us amusing."

"It would seem so," Sirius says in a mock serious voice.

Harry rolls his eyes. "You just remind me of Ron and Hermione. Except older...and with grey hair."

Sirius bristles, affronted. "I do not have grey hair, and I resent such an implication. Blasphemy! Although the comparison to your friends is much appreciated," he adds, leering at his oldest friend. Remus glares at the Animagus.

Harry smiles warmly, wishing Remus would get over it and give in to Sirius. The younger man knows he will eventually. "It would seem my old Defense professor does not appreciate it as much as you."

"No, Harry." Remus looks pointedly away from Sirius. "It would seem he does _not._" Sirius opens his mouth to say something more, but Remus speaks over him. "More stew?" And the conversation is over.

Sirius sighs and returns to his dinner.

Harry sighs, shaking his head at the lost cause sitting in front of him.

He's seen enough to know the two men are meant for each other. And equally stubborn.

Remus, he knows, won't budge without...without a push...in the right...direction.

That's it.

Harry grins broadly, a plan already forming in his head. This time, the two men don't notice.

This, Harry realizes, is just what he needs: Something to keep his mind off a certain blonde.

As Sirius and Remus clear the table and dishes begin washing themselves, Harry just barely resists rubbing his palms together.

Oh yes. His father's oldest friends wouldn't know what hit them.

"You wouldn't." Ron's eyes widen in shock as he stares at Harry over the coffee table in the living room.

"Oh yes, I would."

The house is empty. Sirius, Remus, and Teddy have gone to Andromeda's for dinner, and he and Ron are alone. They had been invited as well, but Harry knows the Malfoys are going to be there and he doesn't think he can deal with sitting around Andromeda's table as the two women talk about the upcoming wedding; which is bound to happen judging by the way Ginny and Hermione go on about Percy's engagement to Audrey last month.

It has been a few days since Harry formed his plan to get Sirius and Remus to talk. He plans to execute it on the last day of term, before the leaving feast. He's already gotten Professor McGonagall's permission to be at Hogwarts that day.

"They'll kill you!"

Harry grins, relishing the distraction from thoughts of Draco. "Nah, they like me too much. I am their best mate's only son, after all."

"They're going to be pissed as hell, though," Ron points out.

"Honestly? I don't care. I've had enough. Besides, you're moving out when Hogwarts lets out. You won't have to deal with them any longer."

Ron looks uncertain. "I suppose...but, well, you're really going to do this?"

"Yes."

Ron peers closely at the dark-haired man. "Alright. Okay." After another moment, he grins. "Good to have you back, mate. You'd been so off lately. You seem like you're better now."

Harry suppresses a scoff. Better? He wouldn't go so far as that. He just knows concentrating on Auror training and Remus and Sirius keep his mind off Draco- and right now, it's better than brooding.

"Yeah, Ron. Yeah, I'm better now," Harry says instead, and drinks the rest of his butterbeer in silence as Ron talks enthusiastically about his and Hermione's new place.

Sirius hears a tap tap tap on the window of his class. He looks up at said window and flicks his wand to let Harry's new owl, Clover, in. It is an odd bird with it's green tinged wings and a reddish thatch of feathers on his head, Sirius thinks he looks like a leprechaun.

"Hey there boy," Sirius coos, petting the red feathers while detaching the letter from the owl's leg. "What's Harry got for me?" Clover nips his finger gently in answer and takes off.

Sirius opens the letter and reads.

Dear Sirius,

I was hoping if I could meet you in the Room of Requirement in ten minutes. It's sort of important.

-Harry.

P.S: Just say your name to the room and it will let you in.

Sirius frowns worriedly, wondering what it could be that would have his godson sending such an urgent plea. He knows Minerva has given Harry permission to attend the feast today, but he hadn't expected the young man to be here for another couple of hours. It has been only a couple of hours past noon, after all.

Regardless, Sirius walks purposefully toward the seventh floor, ignoring the students who look after him curiously. It is rare for their 'coolest professor ever' to pass by without his customary smile and wink. Remus always chides him for the latter when upper year girls- and some boys, the Animagus notes with satisfaction- blush and turn away hurriedly.

He states his name to the room and a door materializes immediately. Sirius enters quickly in the moderate sized, dim-lighted room. There are two Gryffindor red chaises in front of a blazing hearth along with a bottle of firewhiskey and two tumblers.

Sirius frowns at the arrangement. This was about as far from expected as one could get.

"Sirius?"

Sirius whips around to find Remus sitting in a chair he hadn't noticed when he entered. "Moony? What- what are you- did Harry ask you to come here?"

Things have been awkward between himself and the werewolf the past two weeks ever since Remus had firmly told Harry he didn't appreciate the comparison to Ron and Hermione, and implied in no uncertain terms that Remus and Sirius would only every be just friends. He had shoved away the hurt, intending to act as though nothing were wrong. It hadn't worked so well; the two spent vast amount of their time keeping their distance or using Teddy as a buffer.

"Yes, he...did. I suppose he asked you here as well?" Remus looks just as confused as Sirius.

"Yeah- I got a note." The ebony haired man looks around the room for any sign of his godson.

It appears as the tell-tale shimmering of air and the Invisibility Cloak falls away. Harry stands in front of the entrance to the Room grinning too much like James used to before he pulled a prank of epic proportions that Sirius is slightly worried for himself.

"Harry?"

Harry smiles easily. "Accio Sirius and Remus' wands." Harry tucks the wands away.

"What-?"

"Don't worry. I haven't been Polyjuiced, I promise. This isn't a plan to kill you. Just...leave you here to mull things over." At this, a large, ornate four poster bed materializes on one side of the room. The shadows from the firelight cast it in almost darkness. Sirius' eyes widen in understanding. He hyperventilates, not daring to look at his oldest friend.

Harry sighs exasperatedly. "Look, you're in love with him." Harry points from Sirius to Remus. "And you're in love with him." A jab in Remus' direction then back to Sirius. "You know it, I know it. _Teddy_ knows it. You've known each other since you were bloody eleven. _This-"_ Harry waves a hand between the two stubborn men "-shouldn't be that difficult. What I _do_ want to know, however, is why you're _arguing _when you should be going at it like rabbits- or dogs, as would be appropriate here."

Oh, his godson is so, so dead. As soon as he gets his wand back, of course.

Harry's grin widens exponentially when he notices the sheer panic on the two older men's faces.

"So," he takes a mocking bow, "I shall see you at the Feast. Unless you can't make it of course." The cheeky bugger glances slowly at the bed. "I assure you I'll understand and make appropriate excuses." He winks and is halfway out the door before he turns back around, waves a familiar piece of parchment at them. "Thanks for this, by the way. Bloody useful thing you lot made. It'll help keep unwanted people away." With another smug smile, the meddling pest is gone before Sirius's cry of "POTTER!" is out of his mouth.

When the door swings shut behind him, Sirius wastes no time in striding forward and attempting to open it himself. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge. "Well fuck."

Remus hums in agreement. "Clearly he's more like Prongs than we ever thought." Sirius can't help but agree.

Harry walks away from the room in which he has all but imprisoned Sirius and Remus, hands stuffed in his pocket, lips whistling a formless tune. He turns the corner, pleased with himself, knowing the wrath of his father's oldest friends combined is worth it for nothing more than the look of utter disbelief on their faces as Harry left.

He thinks he might go up to the Headmistress' office for a chat with Dumbledore, and maybe, perhaps Snape.

He is about to give the gargoyle the password when the stone staircase moves to reveal-

"Draco!" The word is gasped out before Harry can stop himself.

Five months. Five bloody months and Harry's body lurches, unconsciously seeking contact with the blonde. Harry steps back hastily, unwilling to give himself away. He shouldn't have said Draco. He should have said Malfoy like has done a thousand times.

Like he has whispered, cried, gasped, exhaled Malfoy like a chant over and over again on the lone nights these five months, trying to convince himself that that is all the man is: Malfoy, the git who dressed up as a dementor to scare him; Malfoy the prick who made Potter Stinks badges; Malfoy the annoying ferret who joined the Inquisitorial Squad; Malfoy the bastard who broke his nose.

Malfoy.

Not Draco.

He looks up and down the corridor, a wild, trapped look about him. Almost as though he is scared. Of what, Harry can't understand. But the cornered look is gone the next instant, and _Malfoy's _indifferent expression is back. Mixed with it...is something akin to pity.

Harry bristles. He does not need Dra-_Malfoy's_ pity. He locks his jaw and moves to brush past the blonde, but a pale hand reaches out and wraps around his elbow. Harry shakes it off angrily, turning around with the full force of a glare. "What, Malfoy?"

Malfoy flinches at the harsh tone, but stands his ground. Harry's glow from successfully getting Remus and Sirius in one room, alone, is fading quickly.

He is angry with himself for noticing how-contrary to Prophet pictures- Malfoy looks haggard, dark circles tinge his eyes, and his skin is swallow and paler than before. For allowing himself to see how, despite all this, the bright late June sun lights Draco's hair in an iridescent glow. And how, that single touch at the elbow, even through his shirt sleeve, feels burning hot and makes Harry want to press against Draco and just hold and be held by him.

"Any day now," Harry prompts, tapping his foot impatiently against the stone floor. He wants to ask what the blonde is doing here at Hogwarts, but doesn't dare because that would mean he cares about what he does. Which he doesn't.

He really does not.

"You didn't come to dinner at Andromeda's this weekend," Draco says softly after a few moments of staring at Harry. The latter feels scrutinized and is eerily reminded of how Dumbledore always made him feel like he was being x-rayed.

Harry tries to bite out as venomously as he can, but doesn't think he succeeds. "I was told the Malfoys would be there." Or maybe he does, judging by that flash of something as Draco blinks.

"I see."

Harry climbs up one step, making sure to look down on Draco with an icy glare. "If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with the Headmistress."

He climbs three more steps before Draco's voice calls after him. "Malfoys don't mean Greengrasses."

Harry freezes, not trusting himself to look at that familiar face while he speaks about _her. _He only says, "Yet" and walks the rest of the way up.

_**A/N: So...Draco's back. And what, exactly, was he doing in the Headmistress office? How do Sirius and Remus fare in the handy dandy Room of Requirement? (That room truly is a gem. Can you imagine having one like that that actually exists? The possibilites!) Will Draco and Harry ever get back? Will they both get off their high horses and say what they need to say? And when, exactly, do we meet the charming Lucius Malfoy? **_

_**Queries and more queries! Not to worry. They will be answered...eventually. I honestly have no idea how long this story will be. Anyhow,**__** review**__**, please. They help make my life complete. That and chocolate. **_

_**Thanks,**_

_**MJ.**_

_**P.S: It's my birthday today! Nineteen at last! Gift me in reviews, please. :D  
**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **Yes, I am totally married and have children, and have made so much money by writing seven books that I no longer have to work for the rest of my life... and then I wake up and realize it's just a dream. *sigh*

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 3,014

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

It's halfway through the Leaving Feast when Harry is just tucking into his seventh helping of potatoesl, telling Professor Flitwick why two of his colleagues are absent (Held up because of Teddy is the excuse) when the doors to the Great Hall open with a resounding bang followed by a very angry "POTTER!"

Later, he swears he heard Headmistress McGonagall sigh something about feasts and never being rid of Potters and Blacks.

"Oh shit," Harry mutters, pushing his chair back quickly, and crawling behind the professor's chairs to avoid detection. He hides behind Hagrid's hulking form momentarily to see what his godfather is doing.

All eyes in the Great Hall are fixed on the Transfiguration and Defense professor; the latter of which is strolling in serenely as though this were a park. Harry tries to slink out through the door off to the side of the High Table while Sirius is looking up and down the Gryffindor table.

His usually immaculate hair is disheveled, and he has a wild look about him. Like when a dog looks when hunting for his prey, Harry realizes, and understands that unless he wants to be dog food, he should leave. _Now._ Harry can see Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny giggling at the Gryffindor table. Initially, Harry was incensed he had to eat with the teachers instead of with his friends. Now, he was grateful for it.

As amusing the situation is, he needs to make a quick getaway.

When it is obvious there is no messy-haired man at the table, grey eyes quickly rove to where the teachers sit. Harry has one foot in his exit to freedom when McGonagall notices.

"Mister Potter, just where do you think-"

Sirius is stalking toward him with an unnatural glint in his eye. Remus merely looks amused, shaking his head, mouthing something that looks suspiciously like "Drama Queen," at Sirius' back.

Harry cuts her off hurriedly. Only his face in in the Great Hall now. "Sorry, professor. But unless you want one-maybe two- of your staff to become murderers, I really must leave."

He runs full-pelt through the side chamber and out the other side into a hallway leading to the kitchens. He hear footsteps behind him, and takes a moment to pull the Cloak over him, thanking his father for the fiftieth time, simultaneously pulling out the Marauder's Map, thanking his father and the men out to get him for _that. _

His best bet right now is the dungeons, knowing Sirius wouldn't think to look there immediately. Hopefully, he can get to one of the passageways and leave the castle that way.

But he doesn't make it that far, because Sirius and Remus are there, standing in the entrance hall, peering every which way, obviously expecting Harry to pass by with his Cloak. Harry's only solace was that he had the two men's wands.

Remus, it seemed, was trying to reason with Sirius whilst looking around for Harry.

As the younger man inches closer to the entrance hall, he can hear Sirius rant to Remus. "Stupid map. I'm telling you, we never should have made it. He's going to know where we are. Why'd you have to give it back to him anyhow? Stupid Prongs and his stupid obsession with finding where Lily is every single minute of every single stupid day."

Harry stuffs a fist into his mouth to stifle the laughter bubbling in his throat. He hadn't known the reason behind making the map. Clearly, among his many charms, his father had also been a stalker.

A snide voice at the back of his head reminds him he stalked Draco as well. Harry tells the voice to shut up.

He is almost by the great oak doors when someone bumps into him from behind.

"What the-" a familiar voice says confusedly, and loud enough so Remus and Sirius notice.

Sirius smirks, Remus sighs, and the bastard because of whom he was found out rolls his eyes with a whispered, "Potter."

Either way, Harry is trapped between Remus and Sirius, and Draco behind him. And no, he most certainly is not leaning toward the blonde because he wants to. The blonde is just the lesser of two evils.

Harry decides to just suck it up and get it over with. He pulls off the Cloak and backs up, making sure not to bump into the Dra- _Malfoy_ again.

Sirius' grin is absolutely feral.

"Now, Sirius, remember who's got the wand," Harry says drawing said wand, still backing away as Sirius closes in on him. "And besides, you don't want to kill me. I'm your best mate's son...really, you shouldn't kill your best mate's son. Haven't you learned anything from Wormtail?" Harry ignores Draco's snort. (Malfoy, his mind reminds him belatedly.) He has bigger problems: Namely, his godfather looking like a dog cornering a kitten. "Be-besides, I'm the Boy Who Lived _Twice._ You can't _kill_ me. The Wizarding world would never forgive you!"

Sirius was only five feet away. Harry decides to plead with Remus, the reasonable of the two. The one who looks fairly amused by Harry's speech. "Come on, Remus. I'm your son's godfather. You can't let my godfather kill me! The guilt would ruin you, and you'd fall into depression when Sirius gets thrown into Azkaban again, and then you won't be able to take care of Teddy, and you'll turn bitter and... and... Snape-like! Yes, Sna-Snape..." Three feet away. Harry is pressed against the stone wall. "Honestly, no one wants to be related to Snape, do they? Look at Malfoy!"

"Oy, leave me out of this."

"Like, Snape was his mentor, yeah? Look how that turned-" Harry's breathing is cut off as Sirius pounces on him, effectively cutting off his wind-pipe.

This is it, Harry thinks. Death by asphyxiation. Honestly, hasn't he almost died enough times?

"Black! Potter! Lupin!" Harry vaguely wonders how many times those names have shouted in his father's time. Through his teary eyes, Harry can see McGonagall walking toward them, followed by half of Hogwarts.

Relief! Harry's wind pipe cheers. In his lack of oxygen state, he fails to notice Sirius is not strangling him, rather hugging him quite fiercely.

Upon spotting Harry and Sirius, McGonagall closes her eyes, and Harry just knows "Fifty points from Gryffindor" is at the tip of her tongue. Remus is attempting to blend into the stonework. Behind the Headmistress are Ron and Hermione, laughing at Harry's predicament. Harry mouths a discreet, "Traitors," at them. If anything, that sends them into fresh peals of laughter.

"Professor Black, kindly unhand Mr. Potter," comes McGonagall's clipped command.

"Certainly." Sirius suddenly lets go of Harry, causing him to stumble backwards into-

Draco's arms.

Harry suddenly hates his day with a passion. Why is the man still here anyhow? Harry moves away quickly, albeit reluctantly. Not daring to look back, his face flaming red.

"And all of you get back into the hall, please." The students follow the Headmistress' order, grumbling about the unfairness. "Yes, you too, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. I am sure Mr. Potter can do without your help."

The two Harry mistakenly calls best friends scurry back inside with apologetic looks over their shoulders.

The stern woman turns back to her successor as Transfiguration. "I will leave you to sort this out. _Quietly._"

Sirius only flashes a charming smile. The Headmistress leaves, muttering about interminable pranksters.

"She still likes me," Sirius says fondly.

Remus snorts, stepping forward with his hand held out to Harry. "Our wands, please."

Harry gives a nervous look at his godfather who is giving a deranged smile. "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

Remus smiles softly, looking thoroughly amused. "No, you're right. James would never forgive us if we killed you now."

Harry isn't convinced, although he does hand over the wands rather reluctantly, making sure to grip his own firmly in case Sirius decides to hex him anyhow. But his godfather only looks at him fondly and mutters, "Hellish brat. I wasn't going to hex you."

"Oh really?" Harry says, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

"I was going to thank you." Sirius winks, and Remus blushes, and Harry knows the hours spent in the Room of Requirement were a success.

Before Harry can so much as grin and say a hearty told you so, the Blonde-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Because-Harry-Doesn't-Know-Whether-To-Call-Him-Draco-Or-Malfoy clears his throat, holding the Cloak out for Harry.

Harry takes the Cloak, forgetting all about Sirius, and Remus, and locked rooms. All he can concentrate on are those long pale fingers holding the silky magical material. Then Harry blinks,and the moment is gone. He turns away with a brisk, "Thanks. Come on, hopefully there's some pudding left."

The last is said to Sirius and Remus, who haven't moved, but are staring between Harry and Draco almost...nervously?

Harry hears Draco- because clearly, Harry is ruined and can no longer think of the man as just Malfoy no matter how much he convinces himself- swear. "Potter."

Harry continues to walk away quickly, wanting- needing- to put as much distance as possible between him and the other man.

"_Potter!" _

…

"Harry!"

And Harry looses it. Without thinking, without meaning to, Harry whips around, wand trained on the blonde, and only one word comes to mind with Sirius and Remus just standing there, wide-eyed, between the two old nemesis.

_Levicorpus!_

Harry stalks forward until he is almost under Draco, releases him, catches him before he hits the ground, and slams him against the wall. "Don't call me Harry, bastard."

Draco sneers, but it doesn't quite have the same effect since his face is red from hanging upside down for a few seconds. "I assure you my parents were married when I was born."

Harry pulls Draco forward by his collar and slams him back. "Fuck. You."

The other man lets out a low, throaty laugh. "You already have."

"Yeah, before you decided to pretend you like pussy instead of-"

A deliberate cough cuts Harry off followed by Remus's soft voice. "This is a school, you know."

Horrified, the dark-haired man lets go of Draco, flushing as he realizes what he has said- what he has revealed.

"Er..." Because really, what more can he say?

Draco flushes red, tugging his robes closer about him, looking everywhere except Sirius and Remus.

"No need to look you've seen the Grim," Sirius says. When Harry opens his mouth, he goes on, "No, I look nothing like the Grim."

Harry stares, stricken and slightly relieved his godfather knows. But he doesn't think he can face him. Not with Draco right here. Especially not with Draco right here.

What is he supposed to say? I'm a miserable poof who can't get over the first (and only) bloke he slept with, oh and by the way, said bloke is going to be married soon? No thanks. He'd rather not be more embarrassed than he already is.

He can't even look the two professors in the eye. Now he knows what all those concerned, knowing looks have been about these last few months. He briefly wonders how long they've known, but decides he's better off not knowing.

Sure that all his Gryffindor courage has abandoned him, Harry turns on his heel and walks onto the grounds to think.

He goes to the courtyard where Ron, Hermione, and he had spent countless break hours over the years. It is a familiar place and one which he is glad for. It is quiet, the setting son casting shadows around the hedges and trees.

He doesn't know how long he stood there, his mind oddly blank, staring across the ground toward the white marble tomb.

It has been a year since the war; two since Albus Dumbledore died and Harry can't help but think somehow, things were easier back then.

At least then he knew what he had to do. Knew his whole life was defined by kill or be killed. The hunt, the chase, the search; it was all a part of him.

Then it was over, and his future was unencumbered, and Ginny wasn't what he needed, and Draco was. Draco _was._ He had told himself it was only for a while, that it was only trying to find himself, and figure out what he wanted, that, just because he liked sucking cock didn't mean he was gay as long as their quick shags were undisturbed by _feelings. _Because if feelings came into the mix, he knew he would be lost.

Harry promised himself it would be for the summer, then he would talk to Ginny when the funerals, and the media stalkers had gone. Summer turned into fall turned into winter. Come New Year's he was lost. Lost in a pair of grey orbs.

By the time Draco told him about his trip to France, Harry knew he was well and truly fucked. Knew he had fallen for his long time enemy.

Harry knows now what he hadn't known on May third of last year.

He wants Draco Malfoy. Sneers and all.

"Harry?"

Harry doesn't turn around as the owner of the familiar voice draws closer, followed by another pair of shuffling feet.

"'Lo." He's still looking out over the tombstone, watching as it turns different shades of red and orange, vaguely reminding hims of Fawkes.

"Sirius asked us to find you. Didn't know where you'd gone."

Harry nods absently as Hermione rests a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I'm gay."

Ron snorts. "No shit."

Harry looks at his best friend bemusedly. "You know." It isn't a question.

Hermione smiles understandingly. "We don't care."

"Let's just say your obsession with Malfoy caught my interest this time round." Ron quirks a boyish grin at Harry. "And I've seen you ogle Remus' arse."

"I have not ogled at Remus' arse," Harry says defiantly, jutting his chin out.

Ron sniggers. "De Nile isn't just a river in Egypt." Harry shoves the red head playfully.

"Doesn't matter, does it? About to be married, isn't he?"

Hermione gives her patented eye roll. "You're Harry Potter. You always get what you want."

"Always?"

Ron claps him on the back. "Always, mate."

Just like that, Harry knows it's going to be alright. With Ron and Hermione with him like they always have been, he knows even if he doesn't get what he wants, he'll be alright with just trying.

And so it happens.

Harry finds out the reason why Draco was in the castle that day. (He's to take over Slughorn who insisted this time he really was retiring and no Chosen One would make him come out of it.) By the time Harry had gone back to the Great Hall, Draco was gone, and Harry hasn't seen him since.

He's halfway out the door on a warm mid-July evening, wearing the new clothes Ginny and Hermione have picked out for him. The green shirt Ginny swears makes him look like sex on legs and is he quite sure he's gay because she's still very willing, at which Ron sputters indignantly, and Harry laughs and pecks her on the cheek, theatrically whispering so Ron can still hear that she should meet him in room nine of the Leaky on Sunday.

Harry's pulling on his shoes when Sirius stands in the foyer, arms folded across his chest, stern expression on his face, looking every bit the parent that Harry is glad for half a second he's never really had two.

"Where d'you think you're going?"

"Drinks with Ron," Harry lies, not looking at Sirius in the eye, pretending his shoe laces are extremely difficult to tie.

He hasn't talked to his godfather about any of this. He doesn't know how he can. Harry's made sure not to stay around the two older men for too long, and learned to use Teddy as a buffer to avoid the inevitable conversation.

"Bullshit."

Harry freezes, looks up into that slowly reemerging handsome face that Azkaban had chipped away at. "Course I am."

"You're shite at lying. Are we going to talk about this like adults or are you going to keep avoiding it?"

Harry sighs, hoping to head the Animagus off before he went into a tirade. He shrugs nonchalantly. "Nothing to talk about. Yes, I'm gay. Yes, I was shagging Draco. Yes, he left to get married to a blonde bimbo. No, I've not gotten over it. No, I don't plan on getting over it. Yes, I want to stop the wedding. Does that answer all your questions?"

Apparently, it manages to shock him into speechlessness for a second, and Harry takes the opportunity to rush past him into the yard and Disapparate to Ortsac Street, a famous (and only) gay Wizarding district with infamous gay clubs.

Harry walks confidently to the bouncers standing by the VIP entrance, ignoring the long lines on either side. The bulky form, who looks suspiciously like Goyle, holds a hand out to Harry to stop him. This part is important, Harry knows. He needs to make sure people see.

He coolly raises an eyebrow at the bouncer. The man grunts, runs his wand over Harry, no doubt checking for concealment. When it is apparent he really is in fact, the real Harry Potter, the man nods and gruffly apologizes in a loud voice, clearly saying his name.

The careless laughing changes tone around him and men and women begin whispering some variation of 'Harry Potter? Really?' and 'Is-is it really him?' and 'He's gay? Harry Potter's gay?'

With a self-satisfied smirk, Harry walks into the club, the main part of the evening done. He looks around the bar, spots the man he's looking for, and grins.

Draco, he is certain, won't know what hit him.

_**A/N: Yay! Harry is done brooding! So...who exactly is this man? And what does Harry have planned with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny? We shall find out soon, m'dearies. **_

_**xoxo- MJ. **_


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **No. Just...no. I feel bad enough as it is, must I repeat myself every time? _It isn't mine_. Leave me alone to wallow in self-pity.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 3,440

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

The next morning, Sirius sits down next to Remus at the kitchen table, tea in hand. He's never appreciated summer this much since his days as a student.

Summer means lie ins and Teddy not waking up until ten. Summer means using actual tea instead of teabags. Summer means snogging Remus against the counter as he tries to reach for his customary bowl of cereal he's eaten since they were twelve and Hogwarts introduced that particular brand of elf-made corny deliciousness. Summer means getting to read the _Daily_ _Prophet_ instead of skimming the front page.

Summer means spitting his tea all over said _Prophet,_ seeing his godson's face splattered on the front page with his tongue down another man's throat.

"Motherfucker!"

"Sirius, really," Remus huffs, slurping at the spoon. And speaks aplenty about Sirius' preoccupation with the paper that he doesn't notice the erotic image.

He flattens the paper out in front of Remus. "Look!" Remus looks. And promptly chokes on his cereal as he reads the bold HARRY POTTER- GAY? headline.

"Holy fuck." And Sirius thinks this is the first time in years he has heard the werewolf curse. _"What_ was he thinking?"

It is obvious Harry wasn't out having drinks with Ron, and Sirius would be angry if not for the fact that it is slightly disconcerting watching a zoomed image of Harry's swollen lips and blissed-out expression. Real or fake, Sirius doesn't know.

Sirius scoffs, reading the article Rita Skeeter has churned out with gleeful malice. "He was thinking it would get attention."

Remus frowns at the name of the man Harry was with last night. "Oliver Wood. He was Harry's captain the year I taught there."

Sirius nods, buttering his toast thoughtfully, half-impressed by Harry's courage. "The Puddlemere United's Keeper. Well, that will most certainly get him noticed. Merlin, he's gone mental."

It is at this moment the man to whom three-fourth's of the front page is dedicated to appears looking groggy and still half-asleep. Ignoring the two men, he goes to the very Muggle, very modern coffee maker he bought two weeks after moving in with Sirius and Remus, claiming he had always loved coffee but the Dursleys wouldn't let him near their appliances.

Sirius had had to suppress the urge to Apparate to Privet Drive and curse the bastards to hell and back, knowing Harry and his ever forgiving nature wouldn't allow it. It still rankles him how much abuse his godson had suffered at the hands of his only relatives.

Coffee mug in hand, Harry seats himself at his usual chair at the table.

Sirius clears his throat purposefully and nudges the paper toward toward Harry. "Care to explain?"

Harry grins, pulling the paper closer with a hissed, "Excellent, she did it."

"Are we correct in assuming it was staged then?" Remus asks levelly.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Hermione made sure Skeeter was there," Harry replies almost absently. Harry's grinning expression slowly morphs into a frown then a scowl the further he reads the article, until his eyes are wide as saucers and Sirius can't take the suspense any more. He always was crap at waiting.

"What is it?"

Harry hastily folds the paper away. "Nothing. Nothing at-"

There is a whoosh of flames and Hermione is stumbling out of the kitchen waving the paper. "Harry! Have you read the last paragraph about-"

Harry sends a panicked look at Sirius and Remus. "Er- yeah, I have. Look, Hermione-"

Remus glances at Sirius curiously. They'd only gotten as far as reading about Oliver Wood and his Quidditch career. If this is what Harry had wanted, there should be no reason for him to look so scared.

Hermione turns to the two professors. "You two must be outraged. The nerve of that woman- implying you and-"

"Hermione, shut up!" Harry darts another nervous glance, clutching the paper tightly in his hand.

Now Sirius is really confused, and curious. "Why would we be outraged?"

Hermione blinks, turns to Harry questioningly. Harry sighs, saying, "They hadn't read that far ahead."

"Are we missing something?" Remus asks politely in his stern professor voice- which Sirius secretly finds very sexy and wishes Remus would use it more often in the bedroom. It's a Don't Mess With Me Or I'll Take Five Hundred Points And Give You A Term's Worth Of Detention voice. And Hermione notices, because she's looking anywhere but the Defense professor.

The two best friends then go into a series of non-verbal communication involving nose twitches and eyebrow wiggles until _Remus _snaps, "Will someone please tell us what is going on?" Sirius nods enthusiastically. He wonders what can be so bad when all of this was staged in the first place.

"Alright," Harry says, sliding the paper over. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Sirius and Remus huddle together to read the rest of the article. Sirius has to read it three more times to truly understand what it is saying, while trying to block out Hermione's rant of how blasphemous it is and oh, Rita Skeeter would rue the day she messed with Harry Potter again, and just she wait until Hermione caught her and took her to the Ministry for being an illegal Animagus.

_...Like father like son. As a source reveals to this reporter 'It was sixth year precisely. I remember exams had just been over and done with. And Black and Potter were sitting in the common room, when out of the blue, Potter kissed- _kissed_!- Black.' As readers know Sirius Black is none other than Harry Potter's godfather and ex-convict accused of being a Death Eater. Readers may wonder, with role models such as Black and a father who indulged in such behavior it is hardly surprising our young Savior has decided to follow in their footsteps. _

Hermione is still trying to devise ways to make Rita Skeeter pay. "First Dumbledore and now you. This is the last straw, honestly. Does she have no sense of truth? Calls herself a reporter. That complete-"

"It's true," Remus cuts Hermione off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hermione stares at him, shocked.

Harry, who had been staring at his feet as though he might be sick any moment, looks up sharply. "_What_?"

Sirius closes his eyes, wondering how on earth should he explain himself. There really is no easy way, he realizes, and decides to just come right out and say it. "It was a dare, given by Lily, actually."

"A dare?" Harry deadpans. "All this-" he waves a hand at the paper, looks to the two men questioningly, "-because of a _dare_?"

"Yes. Our seventh year. Soon after Lily and James started dating," Remus confirms.

Sirius nods, glancing at the picture of Oliver Wood and Harry in a compromising position, and speaks unthinkingly "It was terrible. Very dry."

Hermione giggles behind her paper as Remus nudges him harshly, but Sirius can see the grin he is trying to suppress.

Harry glares at him. "Rather not know how it was snogging my dad, thanks."

"Well, it was." Harry glares some more, and Sirius can't help but smirk. "What's wrong, Potter? Remark hit too close to home? Maybe you should work to improve your technique."

"My technique's fine," Harry says through clenched teeth, sighs. "You should have told me. I wouldn't- this could- we could have avoided this. First Dumbledore, now you and Dad."

"It's not that bad." Sirius shrugs, just as a small, nondescript owl flies through the window, holding its leg out to Harry, followed by another, and another, and ten more. Sirius thinks he spoke too soon.

Hermione, Remus, and Sirius hurry to relieve the owls of their letters. Some of them are addressed to Sirius as well.

Harry reads the first one, snorts, and tosses it into the fire. "Hate mail."

"Same." Sirius scoffs. "Listen to this: 'You should be ashamed of yourself. James Potter was a respectable hero. How dare you throw yourself at him like a common whore!' Clearly, none of them read the part where _he_ kissed _me._ Common whore, really. A high classed rentboy would be more appropriate, don't you think?"

"You're too old to be rentboy," Remus retorts, throwing the envelope in his hands into the fire as well. "And none of these people realize James would have loved the attention."

Harry laughs, staring at the third letter in his hand. "This bloke wants to Court me. D'you think they'll come knocking at the door?"

"You should be fine... As long as you don't go shagging every bloke in Great Britain," Sirius mutters darkly.

It's almost nighttime until they are able to cast wards strong enough to keep the fan mail out of their country home.

After they are done, Harry collapses onto the sofa with a sigh, his head thrown back against the cushion, and if Sirius concentrates hard enough, he can imagine he is back at Hogwarts watching James after a particularly taxing prank. Remus has gone upstairs to put Teddy to bed, and Hermione left an hour ago muttering about cows and lady bugs. It's just Sirius and Harry in the den.

Harry hasn't come right out and said why he is doing this, but it doesn't take a genius- which Sirius is, regardless- to figure it out. The older man knows he's doing it with the hope that Draco will see the article and confront Harry. What Harry wants to do after the confrontation, Sirius doesn't dwell on.

"You all right?"

Harry hums in agreement. He opens one eye and smiles. "What about you? Can't be easy known as the whore who threw himself at my father."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "I promise you I couldn't care less. And like Remus said, James would be laughing it up. It would be the best thing that ever happened, in his opinion."

Harry laughs a rich, low laugh. "Tell me about him?"

Sirius looks at his godson, startled. This is the first time in months Harry has asked Sirius to tell him about James. It's almost as though he is asking for a bedtime story. "What do you want to know?"

Harry shrugs, resting his head back on the sofa, eyes closed once more. "The Map. Tell me about the Map."

So Sirius does. He tells him about that time in third year when Sirius and James were walking late at night following Lily who was going to meet Snape, and were caught by McGonagall when she bumped into their invisible forms. How angry James had been that Lily and Snape hadn't been found out. Then about James' suggestion about something that would tell them when another person was coming around. And about Peter, who had in a stroke of rare brilliance, suggested how convenient it would be if they had a map of Hogwarts. Remus had then told the others about this new charm he had come across in the library that enabled a person to track another person.

It is as Sirius is telling Harry about how they found the passage into Honeydukes that he realizes his godson is sound asleep.

"I'd forgotten how much you liked to tell stories."

Sirius starts. He turns around in his chair to find Remus standing by the door. He smiles softly, admiring the way Remus' lithe form leans against the door frame. "Apparently I have the ability to put people to sleep instead of enthralling them now," he says, pointedly glancing at a slumbering Harry.

Remus' amber eyes look like fire in the minimal light. He nods toward the sleeping man- boy, really. "Do you think he's doing the right thing?"

Sirius knows what he is asking. "No. But that might be because I've forgotten what it's like to be eighteen and selfish." He looks back at the messy-haired man, wondering how on earth he'd gone from the awkward thirteen year old boy he had met in the Shrieking Shack to a confident young man in love. Even if he may not know it yet, Sirius has seen the signs before and knows Harry has fallen in love. "After all he's been through, he deserves to be selfish."

Remus flicks his wand and a stray blanket tucks itself around Harry. He wordlessly indicates Sirius to come closer. Sirius obliges, wrapping his arms around his lover, nuzzling his face in the werewolf's neck. Remus chuckles as their hips are pressed flush against one another, pressing a kiss to Sirius' ear. "Sometimes, I don't think you've quite forgotten what it's like being eighteen."

Sirius pulls back, fixes Remus with a mock glare. "Are you calling me a randy, hormonal teenager?"

Remus feigns innocence. "I dunno. How about we go upstairs and prove me right?"

With a low growl Sirius kisses Remus, hard, slowly nudging him up the stairs, all thoughts abot lovesick godsons gone.

The next Saturday, Harry is in Quality Quidditch Supplies with Ron and Hermione, standing in front of the store, watching the many flashing bulbs as the new Lightning Bolt is launched. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are each presented with their own broom. Harry knows that the minute they are off the stage, Hermione is going to her her broom over to Ginny.

Harry thinks it's a bit ridiculous that there is broom named after the shape of his scar, but he can't fault it. The broom really is lovely, and the Firebolt all but pales in comparison to the LB. Ron is grinning ecstatically next to him, occasionally staring at the broom in awe. Harry wants to laugh, and if it weren't for the pack of vultures who dare call themselves reporters, he would have.

When all the media hype is done, and the reporters have asked even more questions about his sexuality, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry go to Florean Fortescue's newly reopened shop for ice cream. The store managers has promised to owl their brooms since it would be difficult to carry three oblong packages through a very crowded Diagon Alley.

He is standing in line to order his favorite Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream when he notices a distinctly familiar dark head duck into the shop and stand in line behind him.

He waits until the person has their cup of Butterscotch ice cream in hand before sidling in front of him. "Zabini, fancy seeing you here."

Harry remembers Zabini from school. Remembers the rumors; the gender indiscriminate one on one meetings in the broom cupboards.

Zabini makes a show of sweeping a long look over Harry. Harry smirks knowingly, but says nothing. He can feel Ginny, Ron, and Hermion's eyes boring into his back, burning with curiosity.

"Yes, Potter. Fancy that."

Harry has to play this right. He lowers his eyelashes fractionally, looking at Zabini through them. "Here for the new _broom_?" He purrs. "I've heard it's excellent. Great ride. Of course, I've not had an opportunity to have a go, but the couple people I know have have told me it's top notch."

Harry knows Zabini knows Harry isn't just talking about the Lightning Bolt. "Yes, I've come to collect my order today." He looks over Harry's shoulder to where his friends are sitting. "I heard the Holyhead Harpies are going to be using them this season."

"Indeed. In fact, aren't they playing against the Kenmare Kestrals in their first match this Sunday?" Harry asks, knowing it is the other man's favorite team. Draco mentioned it once when Harry and he had gotten into a Quidditch argument.

A small, slow smile grows across Zabini's face as he says, "Yes, they are. I've been wanting to go, but wasn't able to buy the tickets before they were all sold out."

"_Really_?" Harry widens his eyes exaggeratedly. "Well, as it so happens, I do have two tickets to the game. Top Box, in fact."

"Potter," Zabini's tone is slightly teasing. "Are you asking me to the game? With you?"

"Why yes, Zabini. I am. Dinner and then the game, actually."

"Who am I to refuse Harry Potter? To a Quidditch game, no less."

Harry grins broadly at the ex-Slytherin. "Excellent. I shall be at your place at six to Side-Along Apparate." With that, Harry turns to walk back to his friends.

"Potter!" Zabini calls. "You don't know where I live."

Harry turns, gives a sly smirk. "I'm in Auror training, Zabini. I can find out where you live."

It is after the game. The Harpies won, and Harry knows there were pictures of him taken in the Top Box with Zabini, and Harry knows they'll end up in the Prophet too, consequently in front of Draco tomorrow. Harry feels slightly guilty about this date. After all, Oliver knew what that date entailed before it happened. This one, not so much. But then Harry sees Zabini making another joke about Snape and he realizes that the man might just understand. Zabini, he has come to find out, isn't that much of an arrogant prat once you get past the haughty stance and disapproving sneer.

They are at Zabini's posh flat in London, sipping some very expensive wine, talking about how the Kestrals were slaughtered by the Harpies. Helped along by Ginny, one of their youngest recruits yet. Harry's first impression when he walked into the flat was that he had walked into a modern Slytherin common room. There are shades of green and black every where around the room.

Harry had been worried about lulls in the conversation, but just like with Draco, it is filled with banter and idle Slytherin and Gryffindor bashing. Harry has found the entire evening quite enjoyable. While he isn't likely to shag the darker man any time soon, he knows the idea of spending more time with the ex-Slytherin isn't overtly repulsive.

So far, they haven't advanced past sly glances, and hand brushes, but Zabini has been giving him The Look ever since Harry came to the flat.

Harry is on his third glass, and knows he should stop because somehow, instead of being on the far left corner of the sofa, he is suddenly right next to Zabini, his face inches from Harry. Harry is about to tell Zabini he should leave when he hears a distant whoosh, and frantic footsteps coming into the room.

"Blaise! Blaise, you bastard, where are you? There's a rumor going round you went to the game today with- oh." Draco halts, blinks. His fists clench.

"Ah, Draco." Zabini glances at Harry, acutely uncomfortable.

Harry realizes how ridiculous he must look sitting inches away from Draco's school friend, eyes hooded due to too much wine, a silly grin plastered on his face because _this_, this is much better than anything he could have hoped for. Better than Draco finding out in tomorrow's _Prophet. _

Harry moves away from Zabini easily, a smirk in place. "Malfoy. How nice to see you. Would you care to join us?"

A muscle in Draco's jaw twitches, the one indicating he is extremely annoyed. Harry's smirk widens.

"No."

Harry stands up with his half-full glass of wine, taking care not to stumble, he walks closer to the blonde with a patronizing smile. Harry takes a sip of wine, letting some linger on his lips, licks it clean slowly, internally dancing the tango as Draco's eyes follow the movement, and says, "What's the matter, Malfoy? Afraid you'll get Gryffindor germs? I assure you recklessness isn't contagious."

He is aware of Zabini watching the exchange with scrutiny.

Draco seems to realize this too. He steps away from Harry. "If anyone should be worried, it is you, Potter. Two Slytherins against one Gryffindor."

Gulping the rest of his wine, Harry smiles, leans forward, and whispers, "Ah, but did I ever tell about the time the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin? No? Another time, maybe." He turns back to Zabini, who has an amused expression, eyes flitting from Draco to Harry. "For now, I must go." Thanking Zabini for the evening, Harry leaves, making sure to brush closely against Draco.

His last image before he Apparates home is how Draco looked when Harry brushed a light peck on Zabini's cheek.

_**A/N: More drama! More Zabini! More Draco to come! (Not in that way, perverts.) And more Marauder silliness to be discovered by our lovely bugsy lady. **_


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **No. Just...no. I feel bad enough as it is, must I repeat myself every time? _It isn't mine_. Leave me alone to wallow in self-pity.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 4,912

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

"Bloody fuck!" and a slap to his cover his and Teddy's eyes is Harry's response when he walks into the kitchen for an after flying snack with his godson. For against the table are Remus and Sirius, half dressed, and most certainly _not_ making dinner as they had told Harry and Teddy when Harry decided to take the toddler for a fly on his toy broomstick.

Teddy, not to be deterred from seeing his father, claps, gurgles "Dada," and attempts to remove Harry's eyes from his person, but his godfather holds firm, unwilling to traumatize the developing boy.

Only when the distinct rustling of clothes is done does Harry deign it safe to open his eyes, and lower his hand from Teddy's face. Sirius and Remus are on opposite ends of the table now, each with sheepish grins on their faces.

"I wonder," Harry begins, cautiously setting Teddy on the ground to waddle to his father. "What would your students say when one of them finds Professor Black or Professor Lupin bent over the desk during office hours?" He glances at the dining table, sickened expression in place. "We _eat_ here, for Christ's sake."

"How is this any different from you molesting my cousin during dinner?" Sirius questions politely.

Harry flushes, remembering that night. "That's different." It's not, really. Especially since the two men don't know what happened after dinner, but they haven't asked, and Harry isn't going to tell them. It is enough that Sirius found out about Draco and him playing footsie like bloody twelve year olds with their first crush.

Harry is saved the effort of elaborating by Teddy who tugs on Remus' trousers, silently insisting he be picked up. Remus obliges, and when Teddy is comfortable seated on Remus' arm, he gives a toothy grin, shouts "Booey Fuck!" and slaps a tiny palm on Remus' right eye.

Harry is torn between pride and amusement. Sirius collapses into peals of laughter, ignoring the death glare Remus' still open eye is giving him. Harry purses his lips to keep the sniggers in check, but can't hold it any longer when Teddy slaps Remus' eye once more and says Booey Fuck. Remus' glare intensifies ten fold which only serves to send both dark haired men into fresh laughter.

Teddy, taking this as encouragement, chants a mantra of "BooeyFuckBooeyFuckBooeyFuck BooeyFuckBooeyFuckBooeyFuck."

"No, Teddy," Remus says, over Sirius and Harry's sniggers. "We do _not_ say Booey Fuck."

Teddy immediately stops, looks at his father, then his godfather, then his great-godfather as Harry refers to Sirius in context with Teddy and pouts. "Hawwy say Booey Fuck."

"_Harry_ is an idiot." Harry is too busy thinking Booey Fuck to take offense. "You shouldn't listen to everything your godfather tells you."

This seems to puzzle Teddy. "Idit?" The concept of idiocy is clearly too great for his one year old mind.

"Idiot," Remus says firmly, placing is son in the highchair, glaring one last time at Harry and Sirius.

Harry's laughter quiets, deeming it safest since the Defense professor looks close to drawing his wand out. He rummages in the cupboards for Teddy's applesauce and butterbeer for himself. He casts a strong Scourgify at the table for good measure before seating himself, smirking when he notices the werewolf's glare diminish and a soft pink hue color his cheeks.

It is then he notices an opened envelope on the table. "What's that?"

"Andromeda's letter. She's keeping Teddy for the next two days."

"Two- oh." Harry remembers the full moon is tomorrow. Remus sends Teddy to stay with his grandmother over night. "Are you- I mean, do you want me to-" Harry doesn't know what to say. Remus' 'time of the month' as Sirius calls them always make Harry unsure of what he is supposed to do. It is his responsibility to deliver Teddy to Andromeda's, and then come back and wait for it to be over.

Remus smiles, understanding Harry's plight. "Horace has sent me the Wolfsbane. I should be fine in the shed out back."

"'Sides, he won't be alone," Sirius says, filching Harry's butterbeer and downing half of hit.

Harry tried to swipe it back, but gives up when Sirius holds it over his head.

"Yes, he will," Remus says fiercely.

Sirius frowns, and Harry feels a lovers spat coming on. "No. I'm going to be there. We've been over this."

"_We've_ been over nothing. You assumed I would go along with whatever you wanted."

"And I have told you, I want to be there."

"And I have told you I want to be alone. Wolfsbane makes it-"

"Damn Wolfsbane. I don't-"

"OY!" The two quarreling men look at Harry. "Will you keep it down? You're upsetting Teddy." And indeed Teddy seemed to be on the verge of crying just watching the shouting. When it is apparent Teddy isn't going to cry, Harry says, "Look, I don't see what the problem is. Sirius is always with you. Now, instead of being at Hogwarts, it's here in our shed. I don't understand why either of you are making this into a big deal."

Sirius positively beams. "Thank you, Harry."

Remus frowns, wiping the dribble off Teddy. Harry knows this isn't resolved, and the last thing he wants is to get in the middle of it. Giving up on getting his butterbeer back from his godfather, Harry heaves a sigh and heads up to his room to shower and change for his date tonight.

He knows by the time he comes back to say goodnight to the two older men, they will be, without a doubt, once more bent over the kitchen table, very much _making up_.

He is right, of course. Thankfully, they aren't making up in their usual way. Instead, they are seated at the table, foolishly grinning, speaking in soft undertones. Harry prefers this to shouting- and _other_ means of patching up.

"Well, I'm off," he says, hoping they won't look up and-

"Alrig- _what_ are you wearing?"

His hopes are shattered ruthlessly. "Um, jeans?" Harry offers.

"_Those_," Sirius chokes, eyes wide, "are not- they're-"

"Tight?" Remus suggests, an amused smile on his lips.

"Extremely," Sirius agrees. "I don't suppose you'll change if I ask?"

Harry rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Honestly, he isn't seven. And Harry knows better than anyone just how tight these jeans are. Even if Ginny did mine fanning herself and fainting when he wore them in the fitting room. He actually quite likes the effect with his deep purple shirt and dark jeans. "No, _Mum_."

Remus chuckles. "Ignore him, Harry, the man wore leather-"

"_Moony_!"

"-on more than one occasion."

Harry quirks an eyebrow. "I don't think I want to know. Now, if you are done being parental, I'm off."

"To where?" Sirius calls behind him as he leaves.

"Check the paper tomorrow," Harry shouts back, smiling to himself as he hears his godfather grumbling in the kitchen.

It's endearing, his godfather's worry. But right now, Harry has a third date with an ex-Slytherin.

"Where are we, Potter?" Zabini has to shout to be heard over the loud thump thump thump of the bass.

"A rave," Harry shouts back, gesturing to the flashing lights and gyrating bodies. "You said to surprise you, Zabini. It's like a large, outdoor party club thing- only better. Wizards are a bit behind on times, yeah? This is one of the first wizard raves since the war."

Zabini's dark gaze flits around, watching the hundreds of moving bodies. "Ah..."

Harry, feeling bold, grabs onto the other man's wrist and pulls him closer, to speak in his ear. "Relaz, Zabini. How many uptight, robe wearing, elitist, boring pure-blood social parties have you been to? When was the last time you let go in public?"

Zabini's uncertain look is all the answer Harry needs. "Think about it this way," Harry goes on, waving around them. "No one here is going to judge you. No one to watch. No one to scrutinize whether you hold your fork just right." At this, Zabini scowls. Harry only rolls his eyes and grins. "No one to bother you _at_ _all._"

"Except the press," Zabini points out helpfully.

Harry laughs. "The press are special though, so they hardly count."

Zabini narrows his eyes at Harry, and suddenly flicks in wand once. The music fades to a dull throb, the noise, and chatter, and panting of hundreds of bodies dies away. It is as though Harry and Zabini are in their own little bubble.

"What's your deal, Potter?"

Surprised at the unexpected question, Harry asks, "My...deal?"

"Yes. Your deal with this whole coming out thing? Why now? Why so...publicly?"

The way Zabini is speaking, almost cautiously, makes Harry think whether he knows more than he is letting on. "Just felt like the right time."

"Bullshit," Zabini accuses. "This has something to do with Draco."

Harry smirks triumphantly. "So you do know." Zabini snorts as if to say _of course I know_. "Well, yes. It does, if I'm honest. I don't want Draco to marry Greengrass."

"She's a frigid bitch. No one wants him to marry her," Zabini states as though this is the most obvious thing in the world and Harry is simply stupid for not knowing.

Harry glares, annoyed at Zabini's switch to snobbishness. "Why did you say yes then, if you knew about Draco?"

"Because Astoria Greengrass is a frigid bitch and I don't want him marrying her. As much as I may not have liked you in the past, Potter, I think you are far better than her. So. This is what I suggest: You let me be your fake...partner," he says this with an odd twist to his mouth as if he has tasted something sour. "And we drive Draco mad with jealousy, consequently breaking up that sham of an engagement, and you go on your merry way, yes?"

Harry thinks for a moment. He supposes it would make things easier with Zabini on board. He is just close enough to Draco for then to see each other frequently and reinforce the seed of envy regularly. Before he knows it, Harry finds himself nodding. "Yes." Zabini gives a predatory smile. "Now, if you don't mind, I spy a _Prophet_ camera man on his way here. If you could be so kind as to take down the spell?"

Zabini does so, and Harry takes a moment to pull the taller man close, to dance. Harry's leg pushes itself between Zabini's thighs. He wraps one arm around Zabini's waist, and the other resting loosely on his shoulder. Zabini mimics his position. By the time the cameraman is close enough, it looks as though they have been dancing in this position for hours.

The tap tap tap of water dripping from the kitchen faucet seems to echo around the empty kitchen, the only sign of restlessness in the still room. Harry has been sitting at the table in Sirius' chair. From here, he has the full view of the shed in which Remus has spent the night.

The moon is steadily disappearing over on the east, beyond the canopy of trees that make the woods surrounding their country cottage. There are potions in front of him, varying in color. One for pain relief, one for sleep, another a Pepper-Up (For Sirius and Harry) and, one is a Calming Draught.

Everything seems unnaturally stagnant just as the moon completely vanishes from sight and the yellowish tint of the first rays of sunlight kiss the far east.

Suddenly, the air is rent apart from the screams of Remus' transformation. Harry jerks, almost sending one of the potion vials tumbling to the floor. His quick Seeker reflexes prevent it from falling.

Wolfsbane, he knows, does not relieve the pain of turning into and back from a werewolf. This is only Harry's fifth full moon with Remus close by.

Once school had started, they used guest quarters at Hogwarts. The stone walls their prevent anyone from hearing Remus' pain. But here, where there is only wood and strong locking charms, Harry can hear everything. _Everything._

This is why Remus sends Teddy away. He doesn't want his son hearing his pain.

Sirius and Remus chose a house so out of the way for a reason. They didn't want neighbors asking questions. The forest surrounded their home on three sides. Only animals live in the small woods, and when Remus first transforms, Padfoot lets them out for the night, returning to the shed when the moon is about to set.

Sirius once told Harry that it makes the transformation easier on the werewolf if he is allowed to roam the night instead of being cooped up in a four by four wooden prison.

The screams die down, now only distant whispers of the ear piercing yells they were moments before. For the first time I hours, Harry moves. He quickly collects the washcloth, bucket of warm water, and potions to take to the shed. Any cuts and bruises Sirius heals with his wand. After all these years, he swears he has become proficient at them.

Harry mutters the necessary incantations to undo the strong locking spells Sirius puts, and slips into the room. That's all it is, really. A small ten by twelve room with a small cot on which an exhausted Remus lays while Sirius covers his up with a blanket.

Sirius looks up, a weak smile on his not-quite-as-handsome face. Harry hasn't given it much thought in recent months, but both Remus and Sirius seem to be regaining their youthful fervor ever since the war. Harry is glad. He quietly sets down the bucket and washcloth. Sirius immediately picks it up and begins by cleaning Remus' dirt smeared face. He moves lower with such painful tenderness that Harry wonders whether he should be here or not.

He bustles quickly, administering the potions in their right order. When Remus' breathing eases into that of a sleeping man, Sirius nods, turns to Harry and tells him to stay at Andromeda's with Teddy.

Harry doesn't protest. He knows this part. It's all planned before hand. The morning after the transformation is Sirius' time with Remus. Alone.

Harry stumbles into Andromeda's sitting room. Teddy and Andromeda are still sleeping, if the quiet house is any indicator.

It is much later, almost evening when they return home. Andromeda never wants Teddy to leave so soon after full moons. She insists he and Harry stay until after lunch. When five o'clock rolls around, she has no excuse, and Teddy wants to see his father.

They are lucky Teddy hasn't inherited any werewolf tendencies other than sharp teeth, hyper-sensitivity during full moons, an unnaturally firm grip, and the urge to chew everything within sight. Remus reckons as he grows older, that anything would turn into raw meat as Bill needs.

Harry hears voices in the living room when he comes back with Teddy. More specifically, one particular voice.

"...wouldn't have come, but Mother insists that all invitations be sent out today, and since you're family, she wanted me to give you your invitations personally."

There is a pause, then Sirius snorts. "Cissa would. Alright, yeah, we'll be there at your...engagement party. Honestly, your mother just needs an excuse."

Harry's chest constricts as he realizes what the invitation are for. Swallowing his hurt, Harry walks into the room with an easy smile on his face, Teddy waddling next to him, intent on pretending he heard nothing, and has no idea of who might be in the room.

"Sirius, Remus, we're ba-" he pauses, looking questioningly at Draco, urging his heart to stop beating so furiously. Draco doesn't look at him directly. He stares at somewhere over Harry's shoulder. And yet...yet it's better than nothing. It shouldn't be this thrilling...this exhilarating, but it is. "Hello."

Teddy pulls his small fingers out of Harry's hand. "Dwayco!"

Momentarily distracted, Draco's grey eyes- so similar to Sirius'- drop to Teddy, and he smiles, pulling out an animated dragon seemingly from nowhere behind his back, and hands it to Teddy.

Harry concentrates on the toy, knowing that if he looks up he will see two gazes full of pity and one- well, he doesn't know what the last one will hold.

Someone coughs deliberately. Harry thinks it might be Sirius. It's not Draco. Harry knows how Draco coughs, knows how it's a gasp, then a clearing of the throat, then two coughs followed by awkward shuffling.

Harry wonders if Astoria Greengrass knows how Draco coughs. He's willing to bet his entire Gringotts vault she doesn't.

Another pause, then Draco says, "Well, I best be going. Father's waiting for me." He moves swiftly to the door.

Harry finally looks away from the silver toy dragon and says to Draco's back, "Do give my regards to Lucius." And Harry can hear Draco's teeth clack shut and grind. He knows Draco remembers what Harry said about Lucius in the club all those months ago. Knows Draco will hate him for the reminder but finds he doesn't care.

For now, he wants to hurt Draco as much as Draco has hurt him, and for once- just bloody once, it feels _good._

So good it makes whether you're supposed to feel this good after hurting someone you care about.

Sirius and Remus don't say anything. They only look at each other knowingly.

Three weeks later found Harry standing in his room in a dark suit with black shirt and an untied bottle green tie, cursing Sirius.

Harry has never before in his life worn a tie. "SIRIUS!" he shouts for the umpteenth time, but his godfather doesn't come. Instead, it is Remus who answers his call and stands in the doorway, a highly amused grin on his face.

"He's not going to answer you. He's still in the loo fixing his hair," Remus tells him. He too is wearing a suit, albeit a dark blue instead of black like Harry's and unfairly has no tie.

"Bloody ponce," Harry mutters, turning away from the mirror. "Can you help me with this stupid thing?"

Remus comes closer, helping Harry with the Monstrosity as he now refers to it. "This is nothing. Did I tell you about how he was almost late to James and Lily's wedding?"

"He was late for the wedding?" Harry asks, wide-eyed. "But he was best man!"

Remus chuckles, doing a complicated knot that surpasses Harry's comprehension. "Oh yes. Ran up the isle with the rings _after_ Lily was standing at the altar with James. It was lucky James was holding on to her hand, otherwise I am sure Lily would have cursed Sirius right there. There, all done."

"Thanks." Harry turns back to check his reflection one last time, runs a hand through his untamed hair, and sighs just as a tell-tale knock resounds through the house. Surprised, Harry checks the clock over his desk. It's still ten to seven.

Remus arches an eyebrow. "Your date?"

Harry frowns"He's early."

Remus smiles kindly. "Better hurry before Sirius reaches the door first."

That is all the reminder he needs of what an embarrassing godfather he has (he prays to God, Merlin, and any other power out there that he not be the same when Teddy grows up) to hurtle down the stairs, but he is already too late.

Sirius is there standing in the doorway in his charcoal grey suit, looking coolly at Harry's date. Harry rolls his eyes. The man loves playing his I-Was-Accused-Of-Being-A-Murderer-And-Don't-You-Forget-It image. Harry has a hard time realizing most of the Wizarding world think his godfather to be a formidable wizard who brought about the deaths of thirteen innocents, even if he has been cleared since. It is kind of difficult to think of anyone as formidable when you've seen them jumping on the sofa in their Bludgers and Beater's bat boxers singing to Uptown Girl with their best mate's one year old son. Harry has a picture of that moment.

"And you are?" Sirius drawls in his best aristocratic tone. It is impossible for Sirius to not know who Zabini is. Harry and Zabini are frequently in the paper as a 'couple'.

"Blaise Zabini, sir," Zabini answers politely, handing a bottle of wine to Sirius. He looks quite dashing in his formal dress robes, and if Zabini weren't such an elitist at times, or Harry weren't head over heels for Draco, he would consider this particular ex-Slytherin.

Sirius accepts it graciously, and turns, ushering Zabini inside. As he passes by Harry, Zabini whispers, "Your door insults your guests, did you know that?"

It is apparent he doesn't want to speak loudly, lest Sirius hear. Sirius, however, had excellent hearing, even when he wasn't a dog. "Only to Slytherins," he said, Banishing the bottle of wine into the kitchen. Zabini looks incredulously at Harry; Sirius notices this too, for he adds, "Old habits die hard. Tell me, does your common room still have that chaise that spouts obscenities when someone sits on it?"

Harry rolls his eyes. He's already heard the details of this particular prank done in their sixth year. According to Remus, the charm had taken five days to perfect. The Marauders had had to steal down to the Slytherin common room every night to complete the spell. Sirius adores bragging about that particular prank.

Zabini is saved from answering by the presence of Remus and a fidgeting Teddy. He too was dressed in formal best. Harry personally thought it was torture dressing a one year old that way. He was bound to drop something on his clothes before the night was even half over anyhow.

"Stop that, Teddy," Remus admonishes, prying Teddy's fingers off his tiny tie. "Oh, hullo."

Zabini gives a small bow of sorts. "Good evening, Professor Lupin."

Remus chuckles, hand firmly holding onto Teddy's fingers. "I haven't taught you since your third year, Mr. Zabini. Call me Remus, please."

Miraculously, for possibly the first time since knowing Blaise Zabini, the man flushes a deep red, obviously embarrassed.

Taking pity on his date, Harry reminds everyone they are due at the Malfoys for the party.

When they arrive, they are announced with such pomp and circumstance Harry is reminded of those historical films on the telly when kings threw balls and queens had ladies in waiting. He knows this isn't a regular engagement party. Sirius had mentioned something about pure-blood traditions and Promise Ceremonies. Harry's gut had churned uneasily at the last one. Sirius explained that before the war, only the closest friends and oldest pure-blood families would be in attendance. These days however, inviting only those of pure blood was not a wise decision.

Sirius takes the whole announcement ritual in stride, looking as though he was born for this. Harry supposed in a way he was. Remus walks beside him, Teddy in tow, rolling his eyes and muttering about arrogant arses.

Harry follows, a little unsure when his entire name- Lord Harry James Potter- is called out. He thinks, wait, Lord? But there is no time to comment because Zabini has already tucked his arm into Harry's and is dragging them into the ballroom.

Heads turn when they walk in. Harry licks his lips nervously, wishing Ron and Hermione were with him today. But while Harry may be extended an invitation because of his relation to Remus and Sirius who in turn were invited because of their relation to Andromeda, he knows his best friends wouldn't be welcome here. Not that Harry assumes for one minute they would want to be welcomed here. As he looks around, he knows he is in pure-blood hell, he sees almost everyone in formal wizard wear. Now he understands why Sirius Black, rebel extraordinaire, insisted they all wear suits.

After everyone looks away, Harry catches Sirius' grin and two thumbs up. He quietly questions Zabini about the whole Lord business; Zabini explains, not without snark, that all the old families were given titles back in the day, and since Potters are as old as they come, Lord he was. Harry personally wants to cringe away from the title. He has too many already, thanks. He doesn't want to add Lord to the Boy Who Lived, and the Chosen One, and the Savior, and the Defeater of the Dark Lord, and a whole host of others he can't be bothered to remember.

There is only one gaze he is interested in, however, and he finds it quickly. Draco is standing next to his mother and another blonde woman whom Harry has seen only in pictures of the Prophet. She is beautiful, no doubt about that, ridiculously so. But she has the same look Narcissa had the first time Harry saw her at the Quidditch world cup five years ago.

Upon spotting Harry and Zabini, Astoria smirks- an expression that makes her look much less beautiful- and whispers something in Draco's ear. Draco scowls at her, or Harry, he isn't sure which because while Draco is listening to his fiancee, his eyes are locked onto Harry.

"If you're done making eyes at him?" Zabini's remark and unexpected closeness make Harry almost jump out of his skin, but the other man clamps down on Harry's arm before the reaction is visible. "Don't be stupid, Potter. We're here as a couple. You can't look so uncomfortable when I talk to you. Now laugh."

Harry looks at Zabini as though he has lost his mind. Zabini's lips are only inches away from his mouth. "What? Why?"

Zabini rolls his eyes and pecks Harry on the lips, murmuring, "Just do it, Potter."

And then Harry does laugh, because the peck is such a ridiculous kiss. It's quite amusing really. What is not amusing is seeing Draco's reddening face as he stalks to the other end of the room, leaving a bemused and slightly put off Astoria in his wake. No. That is downright elating.

Zabini smiles smugly and drags Harry off to meet the many 'important' people around the room. One of whom is his own mother, Isabella Zabini. Sirius is already speaking to her quite enthusiastically. She laughs at something says, placing a hand on his arm, coyly batting her eyelashes. Draco and Astoria are with them as well. When Zabini and Harry draw closer, Draco does not meet his eye.

Sirius greets Harry exhuberantly. It is quite obvious he has had a couple of drinks already. "Harry! Have you met Isabella Zabini? Charming woman. We go way back."

Remus, who he standing between Harry and Sirius sans Teddy (he was kidnapped by his grandmother and great-aunt shortly after his arrival), looks very amused. He leans down to add softly, "He means they go back until third year when he trailed after Ms. Zabini like a puppy."

Sirius and Ms. Zabini seem to not hear. Neither does Blaise, who is flirting just as outrageously as his mother with Astoria. Draco looks sullen, glaring at Zabini with such ferocity Harry is glad looks really _can't_ kill.

Harry grins at Remus. "Might want to be careful or Sirius might turn out to be husband number eight."

Remus scoffs. "I assure you she is in more danger of him than the other way round."

There is more small talk, and more flirting by both Zabinis and more angry huffing from Draco, against whom Harry makes sure to brush when the elves bring glasses of wine around. Remus gives him a wry smiles that tells Harry the older man knows exactly what he is doing.

Draco becomes more and more restless and fidgety, trapped between Harry and a flirting fiancee. Apparently, it becomes too much for him, because he quickly excuses himself, his boots clacking against the marble floor. Thinking quickly, Harry follows him, catching Zabini's fleeting wink and Remus' knowing smile.

Harry exits the ballroom, wondering which direction Draco as gone for a moment. On either side are long stretches of hallways that, if left alone, Harry could quite possibly get lost in. He tilts his head, trying to decipher down what corridor he can hear the distant echoing clack clack clack of Draco's dragon-hide boots. It's the left.

Taking after him in a jog, Harry turns left down another long hallway only to see an ornate door slide shut.

Harry unthinkingly moves into the room, and he immediately knows he has made a mistake.

It's a bathroom. A flushed Draco is leaning over the sink, staring at Harry's reflection in the mirror, his outer robes discarded on the tiled floor. Swallowing the eerie sense of deja vu, Harry clears his throat. It is difficult to find the right words. This is the first time he has been alone with Draco since their chance meeting by the Headmistress' office.

"Draco," Harry croaks.

And Harry is quite abruptly- but not unwillingly- thrown against the door, Draco pressing against him.

**A/N: Teeheehee. I know I am **_**evil**_** leaving it here. But...deal you must, m'lovlies. *hides from pitch forks and torch wielding mob***

**Now, this is a long overdue thank you to all my lovely reviewers. I would respond to each one individually but I am a perpetually lazy person. However, that does not mean your reviews aren't appreciated, because they are. I love each and every single one of them. I love you all. **

**Thank you to all those who wished me a happy birthday as well. It meant a lot to me. **

**Anyway, please do forgive me for ending the chapter like this. **

**Much love,**

**MJ.**

**P.S: I got the whole Booey Fuck idea from my baby cousin, actually. I was babysitting her one time. So, there I was, all alone in my uncle's house, babysitting his kid, making baby oatmeal when I was a little too enthusiastic about removing it from the microwave, thus upending HOT oatmeal on my poor, abused hand and going into a rant thusly: holy shit damn fuck shit fuck holy ARRRGH! Out of which my cousin comprehended two words. **_**Howey**__**Fuck.**_** She was two at the time. My uncle and aunt were not happy. And so ends the too long note. Bye for now!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **No. Just...no. I feel bad enough as it is, must I repeat myself every time? _It isn't mine_. Leave me alone to wallow in self-pity.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 3,636.

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

"Dr-Draco?" Harry whispers, not daring to speak louder in case it breaks whatever fragile hold they have on this moment.

Draco's eyes flutter close. He licks his lips slowly, gasping when he pushes Harry further into the door and their hips rub together. Harry stops breathing, his vision narrows until all he can see are those bright grey orb. His hands find their way to Draco's slender waist just as Draco moans and captures Harry's lips in a heated kiss.

It freezes Harry. It melts him on the spot. It chills him so much he shivers. It streaks through him like a trail of blazing hot fire.

In other words, the kiss is everything he remembers it to be and so, so much more than he could ever think it could be.

Oxygen, Harry is sure, is highly overrated. What with all it's invisible-ness and everything. Who needs something that needs to be proven by scientific tests when Draco's soft, pink lips are _right_ _fucking_ _there. _He grips the blonde tighter, pulling him closer, pushing himself even more into the door, ignoring the handle poking into his lower back.

It is quite irrelevant, really.

He whinges in protest when Draco pulls away, but swallows any complaints when the blonde latches onto his throat, trailing a necklace of kisses along his shoulder to his neck, interspersed with a litany of curses and Harry's name over and over again.

This is around the time Harry regains use of his facilities. His hand pushes between Draco and himself, stroking the familiar shaft over the trousers. Draco groans, letting his head fall back, making it clear that it is Harry's turn to kiss bite suck- _anything _on Draco's pale, smooth, _lick-able_ skin. So he does just that, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path down Draco's collarbone as Harry's fingers deftly make short work of the stupidity that is belts.

Honestly, who needs something so inane? So bloody difficult to undo?

Sooner than he thinks possibly, the trousers are loosened and shoved to the ground, as are the pants. Harry wraps his fingers around the hot, hard, very aroused cock. The sight makes _him_ hot. Hotter than he has felt in months. His skin feels like it is blazing, burning, turning his very insides into ash.

A tendril of want courses up his spine, and all he can think is this, this is _right_. This is how it should be. As he watches Draco's flushed face, quicksilver eyes peering at him through lusty haze he feels...happy.

For the first time in months, Harry Potter feels happy.

The tenderness he had felt the last time they had done this in the kitchen at his home comes back in full force now, and he catches Draco's swollen lips in a sweet, sensual kiss, hand moving up and down Draco's cock. This isn't the frantic movement of just seconds before. This is different: More...loving.

"Draco," Harry whimpers, kissing Draco's jaw then nipping at it affectionately. "Christ, Draco- I..."

Love you. Love you, he wants to say but knows this isn't the right time. The right time is when Draco isn't engaged and they aren't doing this in a fancy bathroom in an ancestral home.

One of Draco's hand clutches at Harry's hair and the other makes its journey south, loosening the trousers just enough to pull out Harry's own hard cock. Draco moves, aligning their hips once more so their cocks are rubbing against each other as both men wrap their hands around them together.

Harry doesn't look away from Draco's face the entire time; he doesn't think he can. And Draco doesn't look away either, both men relishing in watching every reaction to every pull or tug or press on the other's face. It is a mutual dance wherein both are leading and both are being led, basking in the company of the other.

Harry is there, almost there, close to reaching the peak- or falling over it into the distant valley below, he isn't quite sure. What matters is that Draco is with him, panting, and gasping, and groaning as their hands speed up, and hips frantically rut against one another.

This time Harry isn't sure which of them initiated it, but the kiss is hunger-filled and leaves Harry dizzy and wanting more. Draco has resumed his chant of HarryohMerlinHarry and Harry himself is muttering nonsensical things such as closely followed by a chorus of fuckfuckfuckfuck and wordless shoutsas both Harry and Draco come only heartbeats apart.

"Black."

Sirius blinks at the sudden apparition of Lucius Malfoy. "Malfoy?"

Lucius looks at him coolly. "Have you seen Draco? The Bonding Ceremony is to begin. Narcissa tells me he was last seen talking to you a while ago."

Sirius does know where Draco is. He was followed shortly by Harry, and if he knows his godson- which he does- they most definitely do not want to be interrupted by the likes of Lucius Malfoy.

"No idea, Malfoy. Although, if I do see him, I'll let him know he is to come to his Jailing Ceremony." Sirius smirks. He senses Remus place two fingers to his elbow, silently telling him to not provoke Lucius tonight.

Sirius doesn't plan on provoking the man. He only wants to make his opinion of the Bonding Ceremony known. It is archaic, antiquated, and wholly sucking of any and all free will.

Malfoy sneers. "Once again you show your blatant disregard for our customs. The Bonding Ceremony is an old tradition that must be performed before any marriage."

Sirius takes a threatening step toward Malfoy. "And once again you show your blatant disregard for the wishes of your heirs. Tell me, does Draco even want this?"

Malfoy draws himself to his full height- which isn't saying much as Sirius is just as tall as he is- and says, "Of course. Draco knows what is expected of him."

This rankles Sirius more than anything Lucius Malfoy could have said. Expected. He has hated that word from an early age. Hates what it entailed.

It was expected Sirius be the perfect Black. It was expected Sirius be Sorted into Slytherin. It was expected he make only pure-blood friends. It was expected he join the Dark Lord, leave Hogwarts, live the life of the idle rich. It was _expected_ he be married to a pure-blood tart just as Draco was now.

Very few knew the real reason he ran away from home when he was sixteen. A similar Bonding Ceremony was half of it.

Sirius is certain Lucius knows the real reason. He knows his mother spread it far and wide through the pure-blood community back in the day.

"_Expected_," he spits, brushing of Remus' tight hold on his elbow. "Are you sure? Has Draco told you he wants this? He wants to be engaged to a blonde bint just like you were when you were his age?"

A flicker of uncertainty passes through the stern man's eyes, but he recovers quickly. "Draco knows what he wants, as did I when it was my turn."

Sirius growls, because it isn't just Harry's happiness on the line here. It is Draco's as well, along with Astoria Greengrass', although Sirius doesn't much care about the last. He has seen women like Astoria before. Grew up with them even. She doesn't care for much except the gold in the Malfoy vault that survived the Second Wizarding War.

"Don't pretend, Malfoy. You and I both know you didn't want this-"

"Sirius," Remus' soft voice warns him. But this farce has gone on too long. He gives Remus a look that says _let_ _me_ _do_ _this._ Remus nods and steps back a pace.

Sirius laughs. He steps even closer to the blonde man, whispers in his ear, "Or have you forgotten your last night as Head Boy when you had your dick up Rosier's arse in the Defense classroom?"

Sirius steps back to survey the damage on Malfoy's face. He isn't disappointed. Malfoy's has a panicked, desperate air about him. No doubt, long suppressed memories are haunting him now. Sirius and James had been the ones to witness the scene and had later relayed it to Remus and Peter. Seeing how Rosier, James, and Peter were all dead, only three living men know the truth. That he knows of. He has no idea if Malfoy confided in anyone.

"That's right, Malfoy. I was going to let Draco come to you, but we do things my way now. Either stop the Bonding entirely or let me cast the spell so the Bond is null. Otherwise...well, Rita Skeeter is forever ready to take down men with secret sexual lives, hm? Just look at what she said about Dumbledore and James."

Malfoy takes a step back. "This is extortion, Black. Illegal. I could have your arrested for this."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Oh please. Who do you think the Wizengamot will believe? Me, Harry Potter's godfather. Or you, the man who tried to kill him countless times in the last seven years?" His job is done. Sirius knows he has Lucius Malfoy trapped. There is no need for him to stay here. He has a godson to find. "If you'll excuse me, I must use the facilities before casting the Bond. I hope you will inform whatever floozy who had the honor that dear Cousin Sirius will be performing, yes?"

With that, Sirius strolls out of the ballroom and into the hallway. Performing a simple Leading Charm, his wand points left, then another left, indicating him to stop in front of a set of door through which he can hear heavy breathing.

Sirius curses the fact that they didn't even put up Silencing Spells. Anyone could have walked by- anyone. It occurs to Sirius that he should not interrupt them since they are clearly...indisposed. But Lucius could be coming round any second, and he doesn't want the man to find out when Draco is not yet ready.

Sirius knocks softly. "Harry, it's me."

There is much cursing, frantic pulling on of clothes (or so Sirius assumes), a yelp or two before the door flies open to reveal two very disheveled young men, hair askew, lips swollen, red cheeks. Sirius secretly has to admit Draco looks far more put together than Harry. The latter's hair looks wilder than usual but that could just be because of Potter hair genetics.

"Your father is looking for you, Draco."

Draco's eyes widen. He looks anywhere but Harry, mutters a quiet thank you to Sirius, and leaves.

Harry watches him leave with somewhat desperate expression that pulls at Sirius' heartstrings.

Harry shakes his head. "What just happened?"

Sirius can't help but chuckle at his godson's confused look. "Chin up." He flicks a finger under Harry's chin for emphasis. "You didn't think I'd let you hang high and dry, did you?"

Harry narrows his eyes at Sirius. "What have you done?"

Sirius smiles mysteriously. "Did you know, when I was six, my mother taught me how to blackmail my brother for the toy broomstick I wanted?" When Harry narrows his eyes even more so, Sirius laughs. "Don't worry. It's nothing bad."

When they return to the hallway with the doors leading into the ballroom, it is to find the guests being ushered out. A confused Draco is being explained to that there was a fire in the kitchens and he must help escort the guests out.

Noticing Sirius' satisfied smirk, Harry frowns. "What did you do?"

"Who, me?" Sirius asks innocently. "Why, I was with you when this happened. Why would you think I had anything to do with this?"

"Sirius."

Sirius knows Harry wants to say more, but Teddy's squeaky voice penetrates through the bustling bodies. He is being held up by Remus, who looks relieved when he spots them.

"Thank Merlin. I thought Harry went to the kitchen or some stupid thing."

"Hey!"

Remus stares at Harry skeptically. "Are you telling me you wouldn't rush to the aid if it meant saving the army of house-elves Lucius has?"

"There are house-elves down there?" is Harry's panicked answer. He turns around and Sirius just knows he is looking for an entrance to the kitchen.

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Remus has proven his point I think. Come on. Let us get you out of here. Wouldn't do for Harry Potter to die in a common house fire."

Lucius Malfoy pauses outside his son's quarters, hand hovering over the door knob carved with ancient runes for _honor family respect love_. All things a Malfoy should hold true.

All things Lucius failed at.

Black's words haunted him.

Not the threat. Well, not entirely.

That was not the reason he ordered the house-elves to fake a fire, thus interrupting the Bonding Ceremony.

No. He did that because of the other part; the one where Black asked whether Lucius knew whether this was what Draco wanted. He said it with such conviction Lucius is sure Black- Black!- knows what his son truly wants. Which is just...depressing.

What kind of a father is he if he does not know what his own son wants?

Lucius has ruined Draco's life enough. He realizes this. Realizes how terribly his choices have affected his young, impressionable, _vulnerable_ Draco. He wants only the best, regardless of expectations.

Pushing memories of darkened Hogwarts corridors and hushed rendezvous, Lucius knocks on Draco's door.

"Come in!" Draco's voice calls from inside. "Father?" The incredulity is obvious. Rightly so, because Lucius never visits Draco in his rooms. Always in the library, or the drawing room, or the sitting room. Only Narcissa ever visits Draco in his rooms.

"Hello, Son. May I come in?"

Draco blinks. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Lucius stands unsure between the door and Draco's large four poster bed. It is the same as it when he had been here last: On Draco's eleventh birthday. Well, it is almost the same.

There are some new additions such as pictures with Goyle and Crabbe, some with Pansy and Blaise. Others while on the pitch with his Quidditch team in Slytherin green and silver. Books line the shelves on either side of the fireplace. When Draco was younger, they used to be story books and learning books. Now, Draco has added to his personal library. He can see Defense and Potions books as a top favorite. Once, there would have been a few Dark books on these shelves as well, but the Ministry took those away last year. There is also an empty portrait, a companion to that of Severus Snape's in the Headmistress' office.

Draco is getting ready for bed, for his outer robes and tossed onto a nearby chair and boots pushed to the side by the wardrobe.

"Father?"

Draco's voice brings Lucius out of his reverie. "Perhaps we should sit? This isn't a conversation to be had standing...or sober." With a wave of his wand, a bottle of cognac and two tumblers appear on Draco's coffee table.

Draco looks even more confused. "Alright."

When Lucius has poured both of them a generous amount alcohol, he sits back in the comfortable armchair. He stares into the fire before speaking. "I'm afraid I have not been fair to you, Draco."

"Pardon?"

Lucius allows himself a mental smile. His son isn't the one needing to be pardoned here.

"It seems I have forgotten what it feels like to be young and _want._ I never asked you if you wanted to be Bonded with Astoria Greengrass." When he looks up, he sees surprise etched on Draco's face. "

Should it really be so much of a shock to his son that Lucius wants to know what he wants?

Some ruthless, unforgiving part of his mind tells him yes. Yes, because Lucius has never asked Draco what he wants.

"You are my son, Draco, and I might not say it often, but I do love you. I know how my choices have affected you. I have seen how unhappy you have been since...I do not believe I have seen you happy in this house since your Christmas holidays of fifth year." He gulps most of his drink, refills and sees Draco is already on his second glass. Lucius is seized with the urge to smile once more. His son truly has become a man.

"What are you saying, Father?" Draco sounds lost, unsure.

"I am saying..." He pauses, wondering what- or if- he should tell Draco. "When I was in school, I-" Lucius chokes off. This is not easy for him. Only one other person knows his secret, and that is his wife. It had been relief when Narcissa said she understood, and loved him for it anyhow. "I cared deeply about someone. Someone other than your mother."

Draco's eyes widen comically, with good reason. He knows his son believed Lucius only ever loved Narcissa and she him.

"But I was betrothed to your mother, and I never doubted I would marry her one day. Do not misunderstand me. I love your mother deeply, and she knows about...this someone. Your grandfather never asked me whether I wished to marry Narcissa, it was expected." Lucius stands up and walks closer to the fire. He is restless, cannot think without moving. This is difficult for him since he has never confided in anyone but his wife. "However, I would have liked him to. It occurred to me I have been doing the same thing my father did to me. I have pushed your wishes aside in my foolish blindness."

Draco still does not say anything. Lucius is glad, because if interrupted he does not think he can go on. His son seems to realize this.

With his back half turned to Draco, Lucius speaks before he looses his courage, "This someone I cared for was...a man. I knew my father would never allow it. Back then, it was never even spoken of, unlike your friend Blaise and Mr. Potter. If I had told my father, I would have been disowned instantly. I will not be so arrogant as to assume you understand, however, if- if there is someone..." Lucius turns to face Draco once more. "I hope you will think to confide in me. Regardless of blood status or anything else."

Now Draco is the one looking into the fire. His face is flushed, whether from the fire or embarrassment Lucius does not know. Lucius wonders whether his son is ashamed of his father's bisexuality.

"Well, Draco? Is there some other?"

"Yes."

The word seems to float across caverns and valleys and entire lifespans. It is choked, hushed, whispered.

Lucius sways on his feet- the alcohol must be getting to him. Never in a million years did he think he would have to thank Sirius Black. "Yes?"

Draco nods, and this time Lucius knows the blush is from embarrassment.

Glad to be late rather than never, he asks, "May I ask who?"

Draco looks toward at a point over Lucius' shoulder at the empty portrait frame. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. Draco licks his lips uncertainly, before locking eyes with Lucius. "Harry Potter."

As the floor rushes up to meet him, Lucius' last thought is _of course, it _would_ be Harry bloody Potter. _

When Lucius next opens his eyes, he sees his wife and son are hovering over him.

Narcissa begins asking a string of questions, while a house-elf pats his sheets, brings a potion and some cool water. After reassuring his wife that yes, he is quite all right he just felt a little lightheaded, Lucius remembers the reason for his fainting spell.

Lucius Malfoy is not a man of faint heart. Very few things make him stumble and flail. Clearly, his son has found one of those few things. With a gasp he sits up, suddenly remembering the information which caused Lucius to fall flat on his face in his son's room.

Looking at Draco, he demands, "Is it true?"

Draco looks flustered, glances at his mother questioningly. Narcissa nods encouragingly.

The young man coughs uncomfortably, shuffles his feet and mumbles, "Yes." Under the scrutiny of his gaze, Draco flushes.

Lucius nods grimly. "And does...is he aware?"

Draco breathes deeply, looking everywhere but his father. He shakes his head once almost imperceptibly.

"Then you must tell him," Lucius all but orders.

Draco exhales sharply. "Sorry?"

Lucius softens his gaze for a moment. "No, Draco. I am sorry. Sorry for not asking you sooner." Lucius had no idea his son had the capability to turn such a ripe red. "Now, if you do not leave for that hovel Black insists is a house, I will be forced to Owl Mr. Potter myself. Which, I assure you, you do not want."

Draco stares at his father for another moment before a wide grin curves his previously pursed mouth, and he all but sprints out of the room.

After the sound of his footsteps fade, Narcissa lays a gentle hand on Lucius' shoulder. "You have done the right thing."

Lucius winces. "I will not pretend I enjoy dispatching a letter to Hetamius Greengrass."

Narcissa laughs. "He shall find another young, rich pure-blood to marry his daughter off to."

Lucius nods, then groans. When Narcissa looks at him questioningly, he replies, "Potter. Harry Potter. I swear I will never be rid of that pestilential boy."

Narcissa smirks. "No, I am afraid you will not."

_**A/N: I was afraid I would have to break my **_**update ever two days****_ rule for this because this chapter was so _difficult_ to write. I didn't know how I wanted Lucius to find out. I tried three different scenarios before I wrote this one, and this one just...fit. _**

_**So I hope you liked it as much as I did. I took a little side-route by writing through Lucius' POV. I know I usually only do Harry and Sirius, but I needed Lucius to make this discovery on his own. **_

_**Anyhow, please please tell me what you thought about this. **_

_**Thanks,**_

_**MJ. **_

_**P.S: I think there will be only a couple more chapters including epilogue. It is almost over. Yay! Or not, I'm actually sad this is almost over. :(**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **No. Just...no. I feel bad enough as it is, must I repeat myself every time? _It isn't mine_. Leave me alone to wallow in self-pity.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 2,161.

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

Harry is just about to slip into bed. He is wearing his favorite pajamas; purple bottoms with Eeyore, his favorite character from Winnie the Pooh. It is the only hand-me-down from Dudley he still owns and adores. He was actually given these because they had turned out to be too small for his hulk of a cousin.

It had been a long night. Although he wishes it could have gone longer, namely his time with Draco in the bathroom. He intends to speak with Draco the first chance he can get. Tomorrow, he promises himself, he will Owl Draco and ask him to meet Harry so they can...discuss what the hell happened tonight.

As the memory comes back in full force, Harry realizes he is hard and wanting. Deciding to have a quick wank before bed, he removes his slippers and robe.

One of his legs is already between the sheets when a frantic pounding on the front door has him alert with wand in hand. He bolts out onto the landing to find Remus and Sirius looking wide awake- the latter more pissed off than anything. A tilt of Sirius' neck and Harry is made privy to how sharp Remus' teeth really are.

Obviously the two men were not going to sleep as they had said they would. Harry smirks for a second before another round of pounding resumes. Remembering their uninvited guest, Harry rushes down quickly.

"Harry, wait!" Sirius hisses when Harry is about to open the door. "It could be Death Eaters or something."

Harry looks at his godfather skeptically. "I hardly think any remaining Death Eaters are going to pound on the door, Sirius."

"But-"

"POTTER! OPEN THE _FUCKING_ DOOR!"

Harry freezes, trying to gauge if he heard right. Is that-could it-

"POTTER!"

Harry trips over his own feet trying to open the door. When he does, a very red faced, unkempt Draco Malfoy stumbled through.

"Thank Merlin, I thought you were never going to-"

Harry blinks, wondering if he really had fallen asleep and this is just a dream. He pinches himself just to be sure. It hurts.

"Draco, what- mgfmn"

He never has a chance to finish the sentence because Draco launches himself at Harry, capturing the brunette's mouth in a clumsy kiss, all teeth clacking and noses bumping and tongues fighting. Yet it feels better than any of their other kisses combined.

There is fierce determination behind this one that was severely lacking in all the others. Months of waiting, hoping, wishing, frustrating rants, midnight wanks are conveyed in this battle for domination.

Harry's hands roam over Draco's back, on resting on his hips while the other cards through the light blonde hair. Harry feels Draco's hands slip from his shoulder to his waist, pulling Harry flush against Draco. Harry groans, wishing the inconvenient clothing were out of the way. Well, Draco's at least. Harry doesn't have much clothing on him except his pajama bottoms. Harry swallows the other man's delicious moan as he grinds their prominent erections together. Draco reciprocates by brushing his talented, pale fingers along the waistband of Harry's pajamas.

A rough "Ahem," brings Harry back to his senses. He remembers Draco and him are not the only ones in the room.

Harry turns to the two older men, half sheepish, half impatient. He really does not want the two meddlesome old men here right now.

Remus tugs on Sirius' arm, "We will just-"

"Leave." Sirius nods. He turns back, winks and adds, "Don't do something I would."

Harry bites back an embarrassed groan, giving the two finger salute to his godfather's back.

"I saw that... Don't forget Silencing Charms."

This time Harry does groan, slumping against Draco's chuckling form. "I'll kill him," he croaks.

"Hmm." Draco nuzzles his neck. "After."

Harry grins expectantly into Draco's shoulder. Then, something occurs to him. "Wait, what are you doing here? I would think you'd be making plans for a different Bonding date."

Draco shakes his head, grinning widely. His palm cups Harry's cheek, and the latter leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. "I told him."

Harry's neck snaps up so quickly he hears it crick. "What?"

"I told my father. He asked me if I wanted someone else, and I told him."

"You...told him? You told him you wanted _me_? And he didn't kill you?"

"No, he did not kill me, as you can see I am very much alive- and want to continue what we started in the bathroom," Draco adds, brushing his and against the crack of Harry's arse. "Now."

Harry moans, momentarily distracted, but then leans back to look at Draco properly and asks, "He didn't react? At all?"

Draco grumbles. "Potter, I am not here to talk about my father."

Harry grins at the impatient tone. He reaches between to undo Draco's shirt buttons. "Just making sure. I find it hard to believe he didn't react. Are you sure you told him about me? As in Harry Potter? As in my actual name?"

"Of course I did. And he did react. He fainted."

Harry's hand stills on the buttons. "Fainted? Lucius Malfoy fainted?"

Draco narrows his eyes threateningly, but it has never worked on Harry. "Yes, he did. Now will you shut up?" He reaches down to squeeze Harry's arse. "I want to fuck you and be fucked by you, and then tomorrow you're going to break up with Blaise and never let him within ten meters of you, all right?"

Harry grinds his hips against Draco. "Jealous, are we?" he taunts.

"No, it made me ecstatic watching your tongue down his throat every morning on the front page," Draco replies drily.

"If it makes you feel any better," Harry says, sliding Draco's unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, running callused hands over the pale, creamy skin, "we weren't really going out. And I didn't shag him."

Draco gasps as one hand brushes over a pale pink nipple. "You did- didn't?"

"Never. It was always you, Malfoy. Always you."

"Good." Draco grins, pulls Harry into a hot kiss. "I'm so sorry," the blonde mutters against Harry's lips after coming up for air.

Harry gives an odd jerk oh his head which he hopes can be perceived as forgiveness. He would rather not discuss what didn't happen or could have happened or should have happened. Instead, he places a soft, sensual kiss on Draco, welcoming the whimper the blonde tries to hold back.

Draco pulls at his hair gently but meaningfully. "Bed," comes the raspy command. Harry nods, lips nibbling at his earlobe.

They attempt to sneak upstairs as quietly as they can, knowing Sirius and Remus are awake and probably listening, however the urge to touch and kiss every other second is too much, and they end up stumbling into Harry's room with suppressed giggles.

Harry is all too aware this is the first time Draco has been in his room, and sees the tossed off boxers half dangling out of the hamper, a trail of clothes leading from his dresser to the bathroom, a pair of shoes on opposite ends of the room, his bed unmade. What is most embarrassing however, is the stack of paper clippings of all the articles ever written about Draco and Astoria right there on the table by the door. The topmost had Astoria scowling with childish drawn-on devil horns and goatee. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Any hope of Draco not noticing them is gone when the blonde smirks, tilts his head toward said stack questioningly. Harry shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, glad the minimal light hides his full body flush. Draco twines his fingers through Harry, mutters something about sentimental fools and unbuckles his belt, letting it slide to the carpet with a dull thunk.

Harry involuntarily licks his suddenly dry lips, the waxing moonlight forming a halo around Draco's sharp features. Only a pair of low riding trousers separate Harry from Draco. Draco walks forward, closing the few feet of gap between them and Harry's breathing quickens. His eyelids flutter close when Draco lays a gentle palm on his chest.

This should not be so unnerving, but Harry can't help but feel like an inexperienced, blushing virgin all over again. Draco leans forward, rests his cool cheek against Harry's. The brunette brings a clammy hand up to rest on Draco's shoulder, wanting assurance that this is happening, that it isn't some very realistic dream.

When a tongue teasingly flicks out and licks below Harry's ear, he jerks as though electrocuted. Draco breathes out a chuckle making Harry give a mock scowl. He growls, latches onto the blonde's necking, sucking and biting while simultaneously moving backwards to his bed. He shifts long enough so when they fall onto the bed, Draco in underneath him.

Draco pouts and struggles to gain the upper hand over Harry, but hours of training for the Aurors has made his physically stronger. Draco has no chance. He seems to realize it too, because instead of struggling the blonde's hands wander all over Harry's bare torso, never lingering long enough, moving, teasing.

When the pale fingers bypass Harry's groin entirely, he squirms, searching for friction against Draco, gasping when he finds the other man's answering hardness.

"God...want you," Harry croaks between hot, wet kisses with that familiar and positively sinful tongue.

"Mmm..." Draco agrees, his hands on Harry's backside. Harry unbuttons the other man's trousers, his hand slips past the boxers and wrap around the hard, hot shaft. "Wait!" When Harry looks at him confusedly, Draco waves an arm in the direction of the door which is still half open. "Silencing Charm." Harry grins widely and casts the necessary spells before attending to the matter at hand.

Draco wriggles up the bed to lay in a more comfortable position with Harry almost on top of him. The brunette slithers down until he is eye level with Draco's flushed cock. He licks experimentally at the underside and is rewarded with a mewl from the blonde. "Potter!"

Harry stops, looks up at Draco with a frown. "Harry. You called me Harry earlier today."

Draco looks down at him in disbelief before he smiles softly. "Harry." Harry beams, eager to taste ever delicious inch of Draco.

His nervousness melts away as Draco's encouraging cries and twist of fingers in his hair propel Harry to draw out the blonde's climax. He doesn't want this to be the same as before. It is different now. _They_ are different now. This isn't just some quick blow in Andromeda's bathroom.

This is real.

He takes in as much of Draco as he can, smelling the familiar musky scent, tasting the familiar taste after so long makes him feel as if this is the first time all over again. He laps up the pre-come eagerly, his tongue swirling around the tip, wordlessly wringing more cries out of Draco until he comes with a wordless shout, painfully pulling at Harry's hair.

Harry kisses the inside of Draco's thigh gently before moving back up to hover over him. His head is thrown back, blonde hair cascading around him in a shimmering halo, eyes scrunched shut, chest heaving up and down rapidly.

"Beautiful," Harry murmurs, kissing the pale white shoulder once before laying next to him on his side facing Draco. Harry is still hard, but he has no problem waiting. After all, he has waited for so long a few more minutes seem inconsequential.

When Draco opens his eyes, searches out Harry's own eyes in the glint of the almost full moon, he smiles a smile that warms Harry to the core, making his toes curls and fingers find Draco's to hold in the dark.

Draco shifts, nuzzling his head in Harry's neck, wordlessly running his palm flat against Harry's abdomen until coming to rest underneath his pajama bottoms. Harry doesn't take his eyes off Draco as the latter finishes him off, content to look into those bright grey eyes. Content to have those bright grey eyes on him.

It isn't fast or dramatic. There are no stars or fireworks. Only slow, passionate buildup like a fire that has been rising higher and higher all these years unbeknownst to anyone, crackling and sputtering quietly by itself, never drawing attention to itself until the right moment.

Quiet.

It is quiet when Harry comes and Draco kisses him. It is quiet when he settles closer to Draco after cleaning the wetness off both of them. It is quiet when Harry whispers I love you in the moonlit night.

It is quiet when Draco smiles against Harry's cheek and replies, "I love you, too."

_**A/N: So...One last chapter in which Rita makes a comeback, we find out more about Astoria and Blaise's reaction to what happened tonight and then an epilogue (maybe, I don't know yet).**_

_**Yay! It had finally happened. I liked this chapter even if it was a bit short. Let me know what you think of it, yes? Thanks!**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **No. Just...no. I feel bad enough as it is, must I repeat myself every time? _It isn't mine_. Leave me alone to wallow in self-pity.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 3,273.

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's** **Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

A couple of weeks after a very public announcement of the dissolution of the Malfoy-Greengrass engagement (in which Astoria expressed her severe outrage) finds Draco in the country cottage kitchen waiting for Harry in impeccable robes, frowning over a piece of parchment Sirius recognizes all to well but isn't ready to reveal the true nature of.

He enjoys watching Draco's reaction to the creative insults from the doorway. Draco has yet to notice him. His eyes are busy glaring at the parchment, tutting every so often.

Sirius knows he is waiting for Harry so they can go to Diagon Alley to make their new relationship public. They plan on having a 'quiet' lunch together and 'hope the press will leave them alone.'

Draco's irritation at the insulting parchment is at its peak when Remus pushes past him into the kitchen with a look that clearly asks what he was doing hanging in the doorway. Sirius nods at the blonde in silent answer, a smirk playing at his lips. Remus mouths "Ah," nods, and turns away with a grin.

When the younger man sees them, he waves the parchment indignantly. "Is this a Weasley product?"

Sirius tries not to feel insulted at his most prized adolescent creation being compared to the Weasley products. Not that he minds Fred and George, just, he doesn't want to be compared to them. Yes, he is quite arrogant that way.

"Because these people are quite rude," Draco goes on, without waiting for a response. "Especially this Prongs bloke. Where does he get off telling me he'll cut off my balls if I hurt Potter? And Padfoot tells me I'm a stuck up pure-blood snob and I need to be less of a poncey git. Honestly!"

Sirius suppresses a snigger behind his very empty cup. He walks over and reads the words over Draco's shoulder. "Ah, yes, 'Mister Moony would like to inform you that you must stop yelling so loudly and try not to be as daft as you are. He would also like to inform you that you are sufficiently intelligent and capable of figuring out who Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs truly are.'"

"Does Mister Prongs really threaten to cut off your balls?" Remus asks mock innocently from by the stove, but Sirius can see the mischief glinting in his golden eyes.

"Yes," Draco grumbles. "And...Wor- it can't be. Can it? Do you-?" He looks questioningly at Sirius for a moment before shaking his head at looking back at the parchment. "So what is it? Some sort of Insult The Reader parchment?"

"Not quite," Remus admits, glancing at Sirius.

Just then, Harry rushes into the room with a panicked air about him.

"Potter!"

Harry pauses in his search for whatever it is, distracted by Draco. He smiles widely in greeting before turning to Sirius and Remus and then roving his eyes around the kitchen. "Have you seen the- oh, you found it, Draco. Thanks." Harry holds his hand out for the Map.

"You're looking for this?" Draco asks incredulously, eying the parchment as if it is a heap of bat droppings.

"Yeah, I- oh." He spots the insults on the front and laughs. "I see they haven't told you what it is." Sirius notices his eyes trained on the words 'chop off your bits.'

Sirius sticks his tongue out at his godson. "Fine, ruin our fun."

"You mean this isn't a spare bit of parchment that likes to insult people?"

Harry laughs again, kisses his boyfriend on the cheek and says, "Not entirely. Watch. I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The ink spreads and stretches out across the canvas as Hogwarts spreads before their eyes. It is mostly empty in the summer, the usually flurry of black dots absent. Only Hagrid, McGonagall and the occasional ghost darts through the halls.

Draco's jaw drops as he takes in the creation in front of him. He stares at it for a few more seconds before looking up at Harry, opening and closing his mouth several more times, unable to find the proper words. "This...this explains so much." Harry grins wickedly. "How long have you had it?"

Harry glances at Remus and Sirius, just as amused as they are at Draco's indignant reaction. "Since third year. And then some _hypocrite_ confiscated it saying it was too dangerous for me to have it."

Remus rolls his eyes. "I was your professor. It wouldn't have been right for me to let you keep it."

"Yes, and making it in the first place was such a right thing to do," Harry retorts.

"In all fairness, it wasn't his idea to make the map," Sirius offers, smiling.

Draco looks even more out raged. "Wait, you knew this was a map and you let it insult me?"

"I _made_ it. Of course I know it's a map, and watching you get angrier by the second at a piece of parchment is not something I would want to miss," Sirius informs him with a beatific smile.

Draco frowns at Sirius then at the Map then back at Sirius. "So...you're Padfoot?"

Sirius widens his eyes and gives a mocking clap. "Would you look at that, he really is sufficiently intelligent, Moony."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Remus asks.

Harry playfully shoves Draco when he scowls at their old professor. "Come on. It's really brilliant, and it insults everyone. You should have seen what it said to Snape. I'm actually trying to replicate it for the Ministry. Do you have any idea how many times Rita Skeeter has just 'casually walked by' my trainee cubicle in the last two months?"

"Yes, and we haven't been allowed to see this new version," Sirius grouses. He had been ecstatic when Harry mentioned replicating the Map, expecting to be asked for his help, but his godson has been extremely tight-lipped about the affair, not allowing anyone to look at until it is finished. "You would think it makes sense to ask the people who've done it before how to make the map, but _no_."

Harry smirks. "He's just sore because I figured all the enchantments when he bet I'd miss at least one without his or Remus' help."

Draco nods slowly, still looking at the Map. Finally, he looks up with a knowing smirk."So, is this how you stalked me sixth year?"

"I was _not_ stalking you!" Harry protests immediately. Draco arches one eye challengingly. "I wasn't!"

"Not from what we've heard," Remus interjects, and amused grin spreading across his face. "What was it Ron and Hermione said, Sirius?"

Sirius, always happy to rib his godson quickly adds, "I believe the words Malfoy and obsessed were used."

Harry flushes a deep red turned even deeper by Draco's intrigued expression. He stands abruptly, tapping the Map and saying the necessary words to clear it and pulls Draco up. "Come on. We should get going."

"Oh, but I so want to know about this obsession of your, Potter," Draco protests.

"Shut up." Harry scowls at Sirius and Remus, making the older couple laugh. He quickly pulls Draco up, and spins on the spot, Disapparating to Diagon Alley.

"You know," Remus says after some time. "He's right."

Sirius looks up from the latest Quibbler article on the Crumple Horned Snorkack. "About what?"

"You _are_ just sore he found out all the enchantments."

Sirius raises a warning finger. "Don't you start with me."

Remus scoffs. "Or what?"

With a war cry that does not behoove a man of Sirius age- although he will deny thinking such a thing in the future- he launches himself across the table at his lover, attacking the werewolf's neck and throat.

Within seconds he has a panting, quivering, _begging_ Defense professor underneath him. Sirius moves off abruptly, swiping a hand tantalizingly across the other man's aroused groin. Sirius suggestively waggles his eyes, turns, and flounces off.

"Tease!" Remus shouts behind him. Sirius is so giddy from his victory over his best friend-turned-lover that he doesn't even feel the Full Body Bind soar at him.

He falls plank-like to the wooden floor. He watches as Remus hovers over him with a wicked grin that scares Sirius. Remus kneels by Sirius' frozen body, runs a finger up and down Sirius' leg. Although he cannot react to the touch, he can feel the sensations explode in his body. Remus notices this too, because he chuckles and leans closer to Sirius so his breath ghosts over the Animagus' cheek.

"Payback is rather a bitch, love."

Harry watches Draco sit across from his with an uncertain look. It is obvious to anyone that Draco is trembling with nerves. They are sitting in one of the many new Wizarding establishments that cropped up after the war. This is a small cafe situated right next to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Harry and Draco have chosen to sit outside on the veranda so the throngs of people going in and out of Wheezes will notice the two young men sitting in Zizi's having lunch together.

They are relying on the large scale gossip mongering that tends to rule the Wizarding world sometimes to come out as a couple. Even though they have discussed this many times over the past week or so, Harry can tell Draco is just barely holding in the urge to hold himself in his seat and not flee.

Running, Draco had once confessed after one of their many secret shags, was his way of forgetting. A cowards way. Right now, Draco's entire body is coiled to run.

"Hey," Harry whispers across the table. "You know we don't have to do this right now. We can wait."

Draco takes a deep breath, looks around at the other patrons looking on curiously, pointing at Harry behind their hands. "No. We can do this. Besides, I've already told Mother and Father what to expect in the _Evening_ _Prophet._ Mother says she's going to cut out the picture and have it made into a portrait." He rolls his eyes to indicate what he thinks of that suggestion, but the glint in his eyes along with his flushed cheeks tell Harry he appreciates his parents' support just like Harry appreciates Ron and Hermione's, and Remus and Sirius'.

"You sure?" Most of the patrons out on the veranda are looking at them now.

"Definitely." Draco beams, laying his hand almost casually across the table top. When Harry touches it, he is pleased to note there is none of that restrained tension in his muscles.

He brings their intertwined fingers to his lips, visibly kissing Draco's pale hand in a gesture that has no ability to be misinterpreted. The flash goes of right on time as they had expected it.

The buzz of gossip is almost like a tangible thing now, and people out on the Alley are looking, and pointing, and whispering. Harry grins, just as Draco smirks when they see a familiar face adorned with sequined glasses cutting through the crowd like a moth searching for her flame.

Harry rolls the small Cricket ball towards Teddy again. The toddler giggles, slapping his fake wooden Cricket bat at the ball. He misses entirely, instead hitting the floor. Harry chuckles at Teddy's pout, Summons the ball, and rolls it back at him. They repeat this a few more times on the living room floor before Sirius and Draco, who have been staring at Harry and Teddy in fascination, make an impatient noise.

"What is the point of this?" Draco asks, staring at the ball as if it were alien. Remus rolls his eyes at the question. It is a variation of a similar one Sirius asked a few minutes prior.

"There is no point. It's just fun. The professionals play it differently, like Remus said. It's very popular among the Muggles," Harry explains patiently. They are waiting for the evening edition of the Prophet, and Draco is a little more than high-strung.

"Yes, but why?"

Harry looks at Sirius questioningly. "Why what?"

"Why do they play...this? Just Bludgers and Beater bats?"

Harry doesn't bother to correct the misconception that a Cricket ball is nothing like a Bludger, neither is the Cricket bat. "It isn't just this. There's teams, and there are these stumps that if the baller hits then the batter is out. Or if a fielder catches the ball in mid-air. And there's runs and stuff. One run is when you run between the stumps, and then four. A six is really difficult to make. It's actually quite fun. I used to watch the upper forms play."

"Did you ever play?" Draco asks, curiously peering at the small red ball. He tentatively reaches a long finger to touch the bat Teddy has offered to him. He looks as though he's afraid the bat will bite him.

Harry makes sure to not make eye contact with anyone. His childhood is still somewhat of a sore spot for Sirius and Remus. They've threatened to go and ransack Petunia's house more than once. "Er...no. I never played."

"Why not?" Draco, who doesn't know much about Harry's childhood or Dudley or any of that stuff yet, seems oblivious to the tensing of Sirius' jaw or how Remus clenches his fists.

Harry tries to laugh it off, keeping his eyes trained on Draco's fingers and the bat handle, which isn't a good idea either. The way his hand strokes up and down the wooden piece reminds Harry of other hard, long..._things _Draco could be stroking. He looks at Teddy instead. It helps. Somewhat.

"Dudley and his gang never let me."

"Dudley, your...cousin?"

Sirius looks so poised to lash out, Harry can see the vein popping in his forehead. Only Remus' hand clamped down on his arm holds Sirius back.

"Er, yeah."

He doesn't want to do this here. One day he will tell Draco about Dudley, and Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon, and the cupboard, and weekends spent at Mrs. Figgs, and Aunt Marge and her dogs. But not here. Not today. Luckily, he doesn't have to add anything more because an Owl is flying through the window, _Prophet_ attached to its claw.

It hovers in front of Remus who is the one with the subscription. He unfurls the paper after depositing the Knut in the pouch attached to the owl.

When Remus reads the article out loud, Harry hears words like _hero's love for Slytherins and pure-bloods...Blaise Zabini, jilted ex-lover...so soon after engagement to heiress Astoria Greengrass... wonder if this was the real reason behind the break up..._

But he doesn't _care_, because Draco's face is flushed. Happy. And _Harry_ is happy that he and Draco aren't a secret any longer. Draco is his now, and he Draco's.

The picture if of the two of them sitting across each other at Zizi's smiling serenely as Harry kisses Draco's hand. The motion repeats over and over again, making sure there is no mistake exactly what Draco and Harry are to each other.

Harry knows there will be letter, protests, indignant exclamations. Harry Home-wrecker Potter, Draco the man who coerced Harry into falling in love with him and many other names that won't make much sense but people will still shout at them when they walk down Diagon Alley or in the Ministry or even Hogwarts where Draco will begin teaching once September First comes along.

Green eyes meet grey. He tries to tell Draco all he thinks and feels without speaking. How they don't matter, and Harry loves Draco, and now they don't have to hide. Hide or skulk or make excuses like they did a year ago.

Harry suddenly wants to be alone with Draco, especially with the blonde still absently stroking the bat.

He can't think of a plausible excuse, however, without enduring sly glances and more teasing from Remus and Sirius respectively. The latter was more common.

In an effort to distract himself, Harry excuses himself for a glass of water. He doesn't notice his distraction follow him into the kitchen until a pale, pointy chin rests on his shoulder as arms wrap around his waist.

"What _are_ you looking so pensive about, Potter?"

"Astoria Greengrass," Harry replies primly. He has asked Draco to call him Harry many times, but the blonde insists on that remaining for the bedroom...or the bathroom...or the wall, floor, desk, chair and any other surface available to them.

Draco pulls a face. "And why, pray tell, are you thinking about her for? Are you getting your blondes mixed up?"

Harry turns in Draco's arms with a look of mock horror. "Mixed up! Why, I never!" He laughs at Draco's sullen look. "No, I'm just wondering who she's going to sink her claws into next."

Draco smirks. "Haven't you heard? Theodore Nott has already proposed to her. Blaise is right pissed. Says he wanted to have a go, although I'm still not sure whether he meant Theo or Astoria."

Harry chuckles, remembering their very public breakup at the Three Broomsticks and how Zabini had stormed out vowing to deliver retribution. It had all been staged, of course, but the shocked faces and Rita Skeeter's article the next morning had been worth the dramatic flair Blaise Zabini had added.

"My bet is on the former. He did call Astoria a frigid bitch, after all."

Draco runs his hands up Harry's sides. "Have you met Blaise? He would seduce her just so he could break the engagement publicly after being caught in some torrid affair with the Zabini's stable boy."

He didn't bother finishing the unsaid thought: That Astoria would never be able to show her face in public again after having two of her fiancees leave her because they prefer their own gender.

There is some truth in that, Harry has to admit. If there is anything he has learned about the dark Slytherin, it is he loves playing games with people for his own entertainment.

"True," Harry concedes. "Now, let's stop talking about Zabinis and Greengrasses and Notts." He grins suggestively.

Draco gives a put-upon sigh, pushing away from Harry reluctantly. "Can't. I must go stop Mother from calling the Portrait Maker. If I don't now, come next week there will be a portrait of you and me kissing mounted on the wall next to Snape."

"And that's a problem...because?" Harry asks cheekily. As far as he is concerned, he doesn't mind subjecting Snape's portrait to the sight.

Draco seems to know what Harry is thinking, because he narrows his eyes. "No. I shan't put him through that."

"Fine," Harry grumbles grudgingly. He is still annoyed Draco has to leave.

The blonde seems to know this as well, because he leans forward, capturing Harry's lips in a searing kiss which leaves them both a little dazed. Draco recovers first.

"I'll be back after dinner."

Harry can only nod, still feeling the kiss all the way down his spine.

Draco chuckles. He licks a teasing strip from Harry's throat to his chin. "Something to keep you occupied."

"Arse."

"You love my arse."

Agreed, but Harry doesn't tell him that. Instead, he pouts as the tell-tale crack indicates Draco has Disapparated.

_**A/N: Yay! So, epilogue- which holds a surprise for everyone! I'm actually very excited about the epilogue. It's going to tie up many loose ends. *coughRemusandSiriuscough*- is left!  
**_

_** I must ask, how many of you are in favor of me writing a spin-off one shot of what happens in the Room of Requirement with Sirius and Remus? I'll only do it if people are interested. Let me know, yeah?**_

_**Also, let me know what you thought about this chapter.**_

_**Much love,**_

_**MJ.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

**Disclaimer: **Um...this is the last chapter. If you don't know by now that this (sadly) does not belong to me, you need to get yourself checked into St. Mungo's.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

**Rating: **M

**Word** **Count:** 1,830.

**Warnings: **DH spoilers, sexual content, language.

**Summary: **Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

**Author's Note:** A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is canon.

**Six Years Later...**

"Sirius, you run your hand through your hair one more time, I _will_ jinx it to stick in your pocket. For the _last_ time, you have _no_ grey hair. "

Sirius sighs again. His hand twitches, and Harry just knows he wants to run it through his black mop one more time to check for non-existent grey hair.

In fact, that is the only part of him not grey, otherwise, he is dressed head to ankles in grey: grey tie, grey pinstriped vest, grey suit jacket, grey trousers. Narcissa and Andromeda said something about eyes and bringing out the color. It had surpassed Harry at the time, but he has to admit, Sirius does look dashing. The gaunt look Azkaban had given him all gone, leaving Sirius a man more reminiscent of the young adult Harry had seen in his parents' wedding picture.

"How do I look?" he asks finally.

"Very handsome," Harry admits, brushing invisible lint off his godfather's shoulder.

"He'll be there, won't he?" Sirius inquires, worrying his bottom lip nervously.

"I hardly think he isn't going to show up after saying yes four years later."

"I just-"

"Sirius," Harry interrupts sternly. "This is Remus. Of course he'll come."

Sirius looks back at his reflection, smooths his hair one more time, smiles tentatively. He nods as though answering a question of his own. "Okay."

Harry smiles encouragingly, claps Sirius on his back. "All right? Let's go. We wouldn't want one of the grooms to be late for his own wedding."

They begin walking out when Sirius stops suddenly by the door. "You have the rings, don't you?"

Harry rolls his eyes exasperatedly, and a little fondly. Sirius has asked him this question for the sixth time in as many minutes. "No, I accidentally dropped them in the Black Lake and the Giant Squid swallowed them."

Sirius tether on the brink of panic before realizing his godson is only joking. "Brat." He pinches Harry's cheek. "Don't joke about that."

"Well, it's better than running up the aisle after the bride," Harry responds, smirking at the older man.

"You, Potter, are far too cheeky for your own good."

"Funny," Harry teases, holding the back door to the patio deck open. "Snape said the same thing. It seems you do agree on something."

Sirius gives him an affronted look. He opens his mouth to retort, but before he can get the words, Andromeda is there, all but dragging Sirius to the makeshift gazebo that the wedding planners erected last week behind the cottage where now only Sirius, Teddy, and Remus live.

Harry moved into Grimmauld Place with Draco after another thorough cleaning with the help of Narcissa and Andromeda. The two women also made the house fit to be inhabitable _and_ child safe, allowing Teddy to spend most weekends with Harry and Draco.

All their friends are gathered on the many small white chairs. Harry has to admit, Andromeda and Narcissa have done a marvelous job. Silver and blue silk ribbons weave in and out of the bushes, drape over chairs, while small fluttering golden fairies light the poles of the gazebo. A golden chiffon saree is lain down from the very last row of chairs to the steps of the white and blue gazebo. With the late afternoon sun over the forest surrounding the cottage as it's backdrop, the entire setting has a ethereal, fairytale like feel.

Once they are standing at the very edge of the golden carpet, Andromeda leaves to take her seat next to her sister.

Harry sees Remus and Teddy- who is sporting vibrant blue hair much to the chagrin of Narcissa and his grandmother- already standing with Arthur who volunteered to be the wizard to oversee the wedding.

Sirius sees them too, for he halts, clutches at Harry's elbow almost painfully. "Merlin, I'm getting married."

"Yes." Harry grins goofily, catching Draco's eye as the audience turn to look at the other groom.

"To Remus."

"Yes."

"My best mate."

"Yes," Harry says again, because he knows that is all Sirius needs right now. Affirmation.

"Okay," he says again. He looks at Remus, and Harry sees his godfather's whole face light up. He looks skyward once. Harry thinks he might be remembering his other best friend. He was told his parents married on a late-June afternoon as well. He wonders whether his parents would be approving of their best friends being together. He can't imagine them being anything but. Sirius begins walking, his best man by his side. "Okay."

"Almost late there, weren't you?" Remus mutters once Sirius is standing next to him.

Sirius grins widely. "I have reputation to uphold. I can't possibly arrive before the bride now, can I?"

"Prat."

Harry smiles at the easy banter.

The ceremony is over before he knows it. Both Remus and Sirius had insisted on a relatively short one wherein rings are exchanged, wands are twirled, and vows are made.

Harry stands back with Draco and a very pregnant Hermione, watching the newly wed couple as each struggle to lead . Remus wins out in the end, much to the amusement of everyone watching. Teddy follows next, leading a young Victoire onto the dance floor. Bills looks torn between disapproval and amusement. Fleur coos contentedly, rocking baby Dom back and forth.

Harry just laughs before pulling Draco close and stumbling haphazardly onto the make-shift sleek wooden floor. Draco scowls at the graceless entrance. Harry kisses his nose affectionately.

This is it, Harry thinks. His family. Sirius and Remus, Teddy and Andromeda, the Weasleys, Draco and even the Malfoys who, in their own way, are fiercely loyal to family. There isn't anything he needs or wants for anymore.

Except...

"Do you want this?" he whispers in Draco's ear, swaying on the spot.

"A gathering with disgusting amounts of red hair? No."

Harry chuckles breathlessly. He has stopped taking offense at Draco's jibes long ago. He hardly means them anymore. It is more out of habit than anything. "This, what Remus and Sirius have."

Draco leans his head back to look at Harry properly. There are more people on the floor now, swaying, laughing, dancing. "A marriage?"

"Yes," Harry replies sincerely.

"Are you proposing, Potter?" Draco asks incredulously.

Harry deftly slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out the ring box he has been carrying around for three months, two weeks, five days, and fourteen hours since he saw it in Muggle London. "Yes?"

No one is looking at them. Everyone is busy gazing at their own partners.

Draco blinks. He lays his left hand on Harry's breast pocket."You have no finesse, Potter."

"You still love me," Harry says, knowing that is as much of a 'yes' he is ever going to get. He slips the ring on Draco's pale finger while it is resting against Harry's chest. Draco pulls him in for a kiss before looking at the newly adorned finger.

The ring is silver with an emerald dragon. The dragon has obsidian eyes.

It reminds Harry of houses almost Sorted into, and friendships declined. The obsidian forces Harry to recall Potions professors dying for lost love, and stolen wands saving lives. It speaks of history, and promises, and futures unwritten.

Draco kisses him again, and just like that, they are engaged.

When the speeches are made, and toasts are done, Harry's eyes meet Sirius'. The latter nods. Harry grins, waves his wand. Draco, Ron, and Hermione who are closest to him, look curiously.

A loud rumble answers the question plainly written on their faces. Sirius' old motorcycle- or, a newer model of the motorcycle- drives around the shed, parking itself at the edge of the tent under which everyone is standing, staring at the two-wheeler as though it has personally offended them. Andromeda and Narcissa doubly so.

Sirius bounds toward it, pulling Remus with him before anyone can recover and protest. He throws a helmet to the werewolf. Remus, as baffled as everyone else, catches it a mere second before the hard head hits his nose.

By the time Molly cries in outrage, Sirius has kicked the clutch, geared the bike, and taken off into the sunset. Literally.

Everyone turns to Harry instead.

"Oh shit."

Draco sighs next to him, pulls on his hand, and before he knows it Harry is being squeezed through a tight invisible tube. Harry, Draco, Sirius, and Remus as still the only ones allowed to Apparate or Disapparate in and out of the cottage.

Draco topples him onto their bed in Grimmauld Place. "Silly Potter. No finesse at all." However, Silly Potter is being snogged senseless so he doesn't feel so silly for making such a quick getaway after all.

They get married a year later in the church in Godric's Hollow even though neither of them are religious. Harry wants it to be there because only a few meters beyond the church wall are his parents' graves.

Draco understands.

It is a small gathering. Well, as small as you can get with all the Weasleys, Malfoys, Andromeda, Neville, Luna, Blaise, Pansy, Goyle, and of course the Black-Lupins.

Ten minutes before the ceremony, Harry stands before the familiar graves. Snape is somewhere here too, at his own behest, but he isn't here for Snape today. He knows Draco has already visited his old mentor.

Harry touches the headstone gingerly. There is nothing to say. Nothing he _can_ say. He only asks they be there today like they always have been.

Sirius meets him at the kissing gate, a small smile on his face. "They are proud of you."

Not they _would_ be or they would _have_ _been._ They _are._

And it means everything to Harry.

Harry utters "This I swear" before the words are even out of Remus' mouth, and everyone in the church chuckles. Draco quirks that familiar smirk at him. Harry shrugs sheepishly, mouthing _I'm impatient _as explanation. Pink tints Draco's pale cheeks and he mouths _I love you too._

When Remus finally- finally!- says "You may kiss," their first kiss as a married couple is everything symbolizing their relationship. It is tongues clashing, battling for dominance, hands roaming for purchase, and yet...despite the fierceness, it is also tender and passionate and loving.

Draco pulls away first, a beautiful flush covering his neck and cheeks. Harry has a shit-eating grin on his face. He leans in and places a chaste kiss on Draco's red lips. "Love you so much," he murmurs against them and forces himself to pull away from his husband.

He looks out the stain-glass window from where he can see the first of the headstone. Harry thinks he can see lily blossoms at the foot of the tree beyond the church yard.

**A/N: ZOMG, it is OVER! *sniffle sniffle***

**First of all, I would like to thank **_**each and everyone of you**_** who reviewed, favorited, and-or alert listed my story, and to those of you who didn't, as well. I am secretly obsessed with the Story Stats bar going higher and higher (obviously not so secret anymore). You all made my day(s) just by reading this Harry/Draco. **

**Now, onto other things: I **_**will**_** be writing the Remus/Sirius spin-off since so many people want it. It will take some time though, because I want it to be perfect. Sirius and Remus are my most favorite characters in the entire series so I don't want to rush it and do them injustice. But keep a look out for it. **

**Also, there may or may not be a Teddy spin-off starting from his first year at Hogwarts and the difficulties of going to school with both your parents and godfather's partner around all the time.**

**Last but not least, I would love to know how the epilogue was. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I liked writing it. **

**In the words of Graham Greene **_**A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment from which to look back or from which to look ahead.**_

**So, no. This story isn't over. Of course their lives are going to go on and maybe one day I might add a sequel. But for now, this is it for Harry and Draco. **

**And thus I end this ridiculously long note most of you probably did not even read. :P**

**Thank you as always,**

**MJ. **^_^


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